The Boy With the Sugar Cubes
by Trish Tavor
Summary: Finnick's story, told from the 74th Hunger Games on, using flash backs to speak about his past. I apologize for having deleted this like twice now; this time it should be here to stay. Enjoy! :)
1. Chapter 1

My eyes bore holes into the television screen, into the foliage shown on it, into the makeshift cave in the rocks, into the hearts of the two souls in it. And for some reason it breaks my heart. I had thought I was beyond being broken. These two, trapped, unwilling to let each other go. Or so it seems. I suppose it reminds me to much of that night, years ago, when I spent a night in a cave. Alone, with the only person on earth I truly love. That is what makes my situation different. I truly loved the one I held in my arms that night. I know that she too, truly loved me. I am unsure of the true feelings of at least one of these two.

My mind wanders, as thoughts of that night fill my head. Immediately guilt at my thoughts fills my mind. Really, I was no better than the girl in the cave on television. Not then. Hopefully I am now. But I am not one to judge. It took me a while to truly love her.

I had met her only two weeks before, by the bank of the river. In my district, we are told that we have more freedom than the others. Freedom to wander the river banks and the ocean shore, freedom to explore wherever we want really. There are no fences, nothing to keep us in. We must be back for the morning role call, nothing more. If we don't make it, they shoot us. I didn't believe what they said about freedom, until I visited the other districts and realized how true it really was. True freedom though, is something I have never tasted. I don't believe I ever will.

I shake my head, realizing my mind has wandered, and turn my head back to the television screen. The boy wraps his arms around the girl, and she gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek, spooning soup into his mouth. I feel bad for them, knowing that this can last only so long. They have a day, at most, for their so called "happy" romance. Their is only one end for such love in these games.

Death.

Images flood my mind again at that word, and I take a moment to sort through them before focusing on any one thought. Her scent, her smile, her laugh on that last night. The night before I realized I was going to lose her. The night before I realized that I cared. I hadn't before, not really. But then, it hadn't occurred to me that she might be special. She was just another name, really, another face with a name. No more than that. As a highly prized victor, I had no lack of female attention. I hated going to the Capitol every year, I hated who people thought I was. I wasn't. But because of this, I could not attach myself to anyone, for fear that they would be hurt, that they would be broken. Like I am. After all, it takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart. I fell apart all at once, and I have never gotten my pieces back in place.

Clearing my mind again, I realize I the screen has switched from the cave to the announcer. Yes, a feast. Not surprising, they do this almost every year. Except her year. They didn't need to. I can't help it now. I decide that I must let myself return to that night, to those memories. They are painful, and I have never fully healed. But one cannot live in the past and be worthy to face the present. As the memories begin to play out, my hands automatically begin knotting the rope that is ever present in them. Knot, unknot, knot unknot, knot...

She was younger than me by a few years, and very beautiful. This didn't matter to me at the time. She had intruded upon my one place of solitude. The place that I could go to be alone. Away from the people who fell upon me at every step, who tormented my every waking hour.

I had found a small cave by the riverside, a mile away from the outskirts of the district. She had come rustling through the bushes, and stood in front of it, with me hidden near the back, hoping she wouldn't come in. But of course she did.

"Oh," she jumped a little at the sight of me,"I'm sorry, I didn't realize anyone was here...Finnick, right?"

It bothered me that she asked about my name. Everybody knew me. So I just didn't respond, and turned my body away from hers.

I heard her laugh. She laughed!

"Really, now, you have everything in the world and you can't talk to a peasant girl because she intrudes on your cave? Is that who you are, Finnick? Somehow, I thought you were much more than that."

Her words stung my pride, but also intrigued me. So I decided to respond. I turned to face her. She was gone. I sat there in silence for a moment, before running out of the cave. Her figure was withdrawing quickly, almost out of sight.

"Hey!" I yelled," Please come back..." I wanted to apologize, but didn't have the right words.

She studied me from afar, but began to make her way back.

"What?" she requested, when she stood only feet from me.

"What did you mean, saying you thought I was much more than that."

The girl shook her head slightly and laughed, "Really? I thought you would know what I meant. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you are who they all say you are."

I stare at her quizzically, "Who do they say I am?" I request.

She places her hands on her hips and swings her hair behind her shoulder," Well, I would prefer not to repeat their terminology. I am sure you can guess well enough."

I nod slowly, because I can. I have heard what they say. I know. At first it broke my heart, because I could not tell them the truth. Because they judged without knowledge. Then, it just stung. Then, it didn't hurt anymore. I got used to it. I was the outcast, the victor who would do anything to get more. None of them understand. Except, it occurs to me, perhaps the girl in front of me. So I say,"Yes, I know what they say."

Her expression is hard to read," And is that who you are, Finnick Odair?"

My lips are dry. I don't know what to say. I can not tell the truth. They will hurt me. They will hurt her. Really, they have already damaged me beyond repair. I do not want them to do the same to her. "Yes," I respond, slowly, voice cracking,"Yes."

She shakes her head at me," You can tell me the truth, I won't tell."

Unexpected tears fall into my eyes at her words, because someone else said the same thing to me, years before. "That is not what I am worried about."

The girl takes my hand gently, and I instantly pull away.

"I don't even know your name, what are you doing?"

She shrugs, "Just checking. A Finnick who really did all they say he did, would not have pulled away at the touch of a woman."

I close my eyes, realizing she has figured out my closest secret. Instead of relief, I feel dread. Dread like I have never felt before.

When I finally open my eyes, minutes later, after making sure I was not going to cry, I realize she is gone. In her place, lies a single solitary piece of paper, and a small white cube. I pick up the paper and examine the cube. It is a sugar cube. I don't understand, but I slip it into my mouth anyway, and examine her note. It has four small words written on it, in neat handwriting.

"My name is Annie."

* * *

A/N Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts! :)


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning I wake up early, as I never do now. Victors need not attend school, and will never need to get a job, so I tend to sleep late and go to bed early. It leaves less time to think and try to deal with a past I will never come to terms with. A past that instead of falling behind me, keeps reoccurring in the present.

Nevertheless, I try and suppress the thoughts as I head towards the school. I have not walked this route since I myself was a student here. It hold to many memories for me. I do what I can to bury the past, though it is never enough. As I step onto the field in front of the school, the flashback blinds the present, as it so often does.

I am seven. I am short, skinny, and smart. I have always been picked on for this. And then I become this boy again.

Three boys emerge from the school and walk towards me. I try to pick up my pace, but they catch me before the edge of the field. The teachers don't get involved in these fights for fear of the peacekeepers, and the peacekeepers don't get involved because they say what happens on school property stays on school property. Truly, I think they enjoyed watching a good fight as much as the other students did. Not that it was good, or fair.

The smallest of the three holds me, arms spread eagle, so I am unable to protect myself. The bigger boys throw punches to my face and my abdomen. I am not given a chance to fight back. Not that I could. I am covered in blood and bruises by the time they are done. Then the peacekeepers get involved. They take me home, and complain to my father about how I always get involved in beginning fights at the school, and tell my father he needs to deal with me. I plead with him that it is not true, but he does not believe me, and besides, he has no choice. What the peacekeepers say, goes. They only laugh as he slowly unstraps his belt.

I wince, still able to feel the sting as he strikes me over and over with the rough leather. I shove my fists into my mouth, sobbing, until it is finally over. I am sent to bed without supper.

If my mother were alive, I am certain this would not have happened. But she wasn't.

This happened repeatedly for months. Not every day, but at least once a week. Finally, I made up my mind that I would be so strong, they would not dare pick on me. After school I would run to the beach, if I could make it before they saw me. I would run, heave heavy stones, and practice throwing an old trident I had found when I was little. Slowly, little by little, I became stronger. And finally my day came.

After school, instead of hurrying out of the school yard, I waited. I was now twelve. The three boys came out soon after me, and spotted me. They had been leaving me alone all year, but today I was ready.

"Hey," I shouted at them, knowing that would be enough.

Immediately they came towards me. One of them stepped out from the rest to hold me back, and I punched him in the nose. Blood spurted from the wound, and his head snapped to the side. He fell to the ground, unconscious, but with no more damage than a broken nose. The other two stalled for a moment, staring at their fallen comrade. But they were both bigger than he, and this only made them angry.

They came towards me together, and one struck out with his fist to my head, the other to my stomach. I ducked the head blow, and reeled as the other boy caught me in the chest. Using the momentum from the blow, I spun around the caught the biggest one on the side of the neck. He to, fell over unconscious. I was about to hit the other, who was standing shocked at this turn of events, when a strong arm grabbed my upraised one from behind and spun me around. Raul, our head peacekeeper at the time, help me with an iron grip. Two other with him bent down and heaved up the two boys lying on the ground. Marcus, the third, had sprinted away the moment Raul had appeared.

I lowered my head, as Raul motioned for the other two to take the boys home. He flung me to the ground unceremoniously, and voice hard, spoke:

"Look at me, boy."

I slowly raised my head to look him in the eyes. His gaze was hard, cold, and...all of the sudden, he winked, his lips upturned in a playful smile. Immediately his face was hard again. He offered me a hand, and helped me up, gripping my arm again.

"Let's get you home."

I was the happiest boy around, walking home with Raul's arm around my shoulder. I had proven myself. It was his job to make sure these things did not happen, but I had finally proven to them that I was not a weakling. And he had noticed. He was not, angry, but proud of how I had handled things. My father would be too. He had always hated having a weakling for a son, and I knew that he would love me when I proved myself to him.

We entered my home to my father standing tall and angry in the doorway. Raul motioned to me, "Got in another fight again."

My fathers expression grew colder,"Finnick, I thought you had finally outgrown that childishness. Will you never learn to act like a man?"

Raul shook his head slowly," He beat up all three of his attackers. I will leave you two alone." He smiled at me and my father, knowing that this last statement would change my fathers mind about my manliness. "Your son is becoming a man, quickly," he stated, and left the house.

My father's expression did not change, and I wondered why. Surely he would be proud, and finally accept me, as I had always envisioned happening when I was finally able to prove myself to him. Instead, he took my arm and led me to my room. I did not understand what was happening. I should have.

He closed the door to my room. "Let this be a warning to you, boy. I never want to see you get in a fight again. I am ashamed to call you my son."

His hands began slowly unwinding his belt, as they had done so often before. I shrunk back immediately, back against the wall. "Father...Raul...I, I thought you would be proud. Please, father. I just wanted you to be proud..." I pleaded with him.

"Silence," his voice was filled with ice. He twirled his finger in a circular motion, once around. Closing my ears, tears streaming down my face, I turned around, took off my shirt, and placed my hands against the wall.

I heard him curl the belt in his hands, like he always did, flexing it, running the smooth, hard leather against his calloused hands. The silence as he raised it. The sickening strike of the leather against my skin.

I still bear the scars from that night.

A sudden voice jolts me back to the present. A hand is placed on my shoulder and I wince spontaneously, as though the touch stings me as the whip did. As normal, I bury the memory into the deep places of my mind, and remember what I came hear to do.

Students surround me now, some already entering the school, others milling around talking. I hope I have not missed her.

Then I spot her, surrounded by a large group of friends. They are laughing and talking. I know I should not interrupt them, but I do anyway.

They make way as I pass through them, but I head straight for the girl on the edge of the group, tossing her hair back over her shoulder, and laughing.

"Annie." I speak quietly.

Her face grows immediately wary, and she turns to where I stand. Her voice is cold when she speaks.

"Finnick."

I wince at her voice, having heard that tone and all it was associated with too many times before. She notices the flinch and backs off slightly.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," I say," I wanted to ask if you would go for a walk me with, when you are done here."

The group surrounding her begins to giggle like a group of five year olds. Annie turns bright red.

"I am sorry, Finnick, but I will have to decline. I have other things to attend to after school, rather than walking with a boy I barely know, and with a reputation...well..." She smirks at her friends, who laugh again.

I turn and walk away, not looking back. It was then that I first realized that I was not above being hurt, not above being broken. I had put trust in other person, if only for a moment. She had broken my heart.

I head straight for my place in the woods, and sit. Hours pass, without me moving. It seems like days before I finally stand and head towards the water. I plunge in without worrying to take off my shirt. The water is still cold, not yet willing to relinquish its ice to the warmth of summer. It numbs me. I never want to get out. I swim along the bank for what now seems like hours, but I know it must be only a few minutes, or else I would probably have gone into some state of hypothermia. I stand on the bank now, overlooking the river. I wonder what would happen if I built a raft, and let it carry me out to the far unknowns.

They would find me, bring me back, and kill me publicly as an example. That's what.

I don't let myself dwell on the thought.

* * *

A/N Once again, thanks for reading! Please review :)


	3. Chapter 3

I lie in bed for hours that night. My thoughts have not strayed from Annie since I sat by the riverbank this morning. Her flowing brown hair that gently touched my skin when I spoke with her this morning. Her piercing green eyes, that can uncover any secret. And I realize my first opinion of her was wrong. She is not some soul mate who will understand me when no one else can. She is no different from the rest of them. I am thankful now that I did not allow myself to love her to quickly. I opened up to her, that is all. She is nothing to me, really.

Well, I can tell myself that.

Our conversation this morning plays through my mind, bringing on another round of tears. The truth is, I have been longing for some form of human touch, human love. Not that I have a lack of admirers in the Capitol, but I want someone who loves me for who I am, and I them. It is not Annie that bothers me, but the lack of this. Annie is only the one who made me remember afresh my deepest longing. But, what was it she said before I turned and left. That she did not want to walk with a boy she barely knew, and who had a reputation...that was when she smirked sarcastically and laughed with her friends. I realize she has hurt me in a way that I never thought I could be hurt by anyone. She has changed me, in my own mind, into something that I am not. Into a Finnick who cares not for morals, or for love...

I get no sleep tonight.

When the grey light of dawn streams through my window, I pull myself out of bed, bags under my eyes from a sleepless night. Face stained with tears. One thing is on my mind. Annie. And the knowledge that I can never open up to her, or anyone, ever again. Snow has taken that from me, like he has taken everything else.

I dress in a simple pair of cargo pants and a light green shirt. I know I should eat, as I have eaten nothing since the day before yesterday, but for some reason I am still not hungry. I leave my home in the Victors Village and walk towards the river. My mind wanders, and I do not notice the form in my cave until it is too late.

She stares out at the river, eyes not meeting mind, body not changing posture, as I come up. I consider turning back, but decide that is too childish. Besides, this is my cave. She is the one who needs to leave.

I sit down beside her, and only then does she meet my eyes. They are swimming with tears, and look almost a dull sea green, rather than the piercing colour of yesterday. I am taken aback by this.

"Finnick, I have something I need to tell you."

I think about her statement for a moment, and then nod slowly,"Go ahead."

Annie takes a deep breath, her sobs catching in it for a moment.

"I am sorry for how I acted yesterday. It was childish. I just...I felt so uncomfortable. I didn't know how to react, so I reacted as a young, 15 year old girl would act in that situation. Stupidly. I meant nothing I said...I just hope, I hope you can forgive me, Finnick."

I stare at her, surprised. "Annie, I barely even know you. Why did you tell me this? You could have left it. What am I to you?"

She looks at me, her eyes again the deep green of yesterday. "When you came back from the Games, I was only a little girl, but even then I saw it. The struggle within you. The pain. The tears on the verge of breaking free every time you walked on the streets. Then it changed. You seemed above it all. Cold, but injured. I have always had a feeling about you, Finnick. I have wanted to help you, but..." her voice breaks," I have just made it worse."

Looking at her, I feel somehow that I should comfort her. Wrap my arms around her and forgive her. Tell her it is okay. That these are exactly the words that I have always wanted to hear. But I don't.

"It's okay, Annie." I say,"I wouldn't expect a child to know any better."

She looks up at me, hurt filling her eyes. I don't understand it, why this girl has so suddenly come into my life and torn it apart. But there is also a side of me that is happy to have hurt her like she did me. And I know that I have become the childish one.

She nods slowly, though, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Fairs, fair." she says.

I shake my head at her, but I can't help a smile from turning up the corners of my lips, only slightly. A glint enters her eyes, and she winks. How our relationship has changed from anger and hurt to this, in moments, I do not know. But I am thankful for this turn of events. I wonder if maybe we could be friends.

Then Annie gets up.

"I have to go," she says," I have school."

I nod, and give her a small smile.

She turns to go, but I call her name to stop her, and she turns once again to face me.

"Annie, I need a friend."

She smiles, then. Truly Smiles. Her reply, though, takes me off guard. She speaks and then leaves. Leaves me pondering her words and her friendship.

"Take off the mask, Finnick."


	4. Chapter 4

I hear a voice calling my name, ever so gently. I can not place the voice, or the name for a moment, until I realize that it is mine, and that I have been drawn back into the world of thought. A touch on my arm brings me back, and for a moment I see a face filled with worry and anxiety before me. Then that moment passes.

"Finnick."

I look up and see Annie grinning down at me. Smiling back at her, I lean in for a kiss, and then let my eyes fall back on the television screen. Katniss and Peeta, the two tributes from District Twelve, are still alive. The girl from district five, Thresh from eleven, and Cato and Clove from Two. The announcers have announced a feast that is to take place this morning. Likely, there will be no more action until then, so the cameras still rest on the District Twelve tributes, the "star crossed lovers" and follows their every move. Right now, Katniss is telling Peeta the story of how she got her sister a goat. Not all that interesting if you ask me, but the people from the Capitol are hooked. I roll my eyes involuntarily and take the hand Annie offers. I will only have an hour at most with her before President Snow shows me my room for the night. Annie knows now, of course, but she never speaks of it during the games for my sake. At home we only talk about it rarely, and only when necessary. After all, she is only 19, and already fading. I don't want to burden her mind with anything else.

She begins to speak as we walk hand in hand down the stairs from the television studio where we were watching the Games. We are both mentors, but as both the district four tributes are out of it, we are able to relax until it is all over and we head back to District Four. Of course, I wish we could just head back now, but President Snow would keep me here all year if I tried to resist. Or do something even worse.

Annie's long brown hair catches the wind the moment we step foot outside, and she smiles, staring at the beautiful sunset that covers the Capitol. I wonder if it is real, or just a projection. But it makes Annie happy, and that is all that I care about. Staring at her now, I remember a moment before all the cares were placed upon her. A moment when she was free and happy as she is now. I reach down and touch my lips to hers. But in that kiss lies another thousand memories for me to sort through, and my mind flickers back into thought.

(-)

I don't see her again that day, or the next, or the next. I begin to worry. Her school and home life must be keeping her busy. Or at least, that is what I tell myself. I spend the days as I normally do. Running the beach, spending time thinking in my cave. Practicing with the trident sent to me in my own Hunger Games, though it already flows like an extension of my arm. My father told me when I came back that I should just get rid of it.

But I never know when I may need it again. I don't want to get rusty.

Besides, anytime I can, I make sure to go against what my father says. Not anymore, of course, as he was killed in a so called boat failure on a fishing trip a few years ago. I know the truth though. I have never told.

When I came back from my games and was given the keys to a new home in the victor's village, I was only 14. My father, of course, had his belongings packed up and was ready to move in with me. His belt was on tight.

He was outraged when I told him no, but of course there was nothing he could do. He tried to tell the peacekeepers that I was too young to live alone, but in the end it was my choice. My decision.

For once.

I lived alone until I was sixteen, which gave me almost two years of freedom. Not freedom of the mind, of course. One cannot be a Hunger Games victor and ever be truly free. But more free than I am now.

After that, President Snow became my new father. He was worse than the other. He told me what I would do when I came to the Capitol, where I would go. Who I would stay with.

Those are always the worst weeks of my life. And I cannot refuse.

No one can.

I had been fighting the hard battle on my own, until now. After a few days Annie came to my home in the victors village, and we began seeing each other every day. As friends. I had no feelings for her in any other way, and some things about her personality really bothered me. She was, for instance, a very popular girl and cared very much about what others thought of her. I had never worried about this. But, nonetheless, it was good to finally have a friend.

I never confided in her. She was only fifteen at the time, which seemed to me to be very young. Her sixteenth birthday was fast approaching, though. I thought that maybe I would tell her more then. She had already guessed enough, anyway. We were out walking one day, about a week and a half after we first met, when she asked it. The question I had dreaded.

"Finnick, why are you so different from everyone else? What happened in the Capitol?"

I turned from her, and let my gaze fall out over the ocean. The sand beneath my feet seemed to turn immediately to hot coals, and every shell that I stepped on like a burst of fire.

"Nothing, really," I tell her,"but you can't expect me to have fought in the Hunger Games and come out the same person I once was."

She is staring at me now, and I meet her gaze.

"Who was that, Finnick? Who were you, once?"

I let out my breath slowly, for fear that I will start gasping for breath. I feel for a moment like I am drowning, before I again take control of my emotions.

"Just a boy, I suppose. Not a normal boy, really. I never was. My father was not exactly the nicest person around. But it made me strong. I wouldn't have won without him."

She nods her head, like she knew this.

"We all knew that Finnick, I was only six when it started, but there were rumors going around. I didn't understand it all, but people said you had a rough life. When I got older, I began to watch you. I guess that is when I began to notice you. You would come to school slouched, sometimes bruised, but almost always as though you were in pain. But there was a difference in you. You genuinely seemed to care for people, help people, love you. That is how I knew that you could not be what people said you were when you came back."

I look at this girl for a moment, so young but so wise, and consider telling her the truth. I would, if not for the threat that I knew to lay behind the words. I couldn't bear it if I was the cause of her death.

"Well, you were a smart girl," is all I say. It lets her know she was right, without endangering her. The perfect balance, I suppose.

She gives me a small, but gentle smile. Then we walk in silence for a moment. I don't know why, I guess it seemed appropriate, but I take her hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her face light up, ever so slightly, and she smiles. It is one of those moments that I treasure. A moment of unspoiled happiness.

There are few of these nowadays.

Then I see it, sitting on the sand, untouched by the ocean or those around it. An oyster. Oysters are not uncommon in this area, but one sitting alone on the beach can only mean one thing. I reach down and pick it up, and sure enough, inside is a small white pearl. It is not large, showing that it has not fully formed. Later on, when Annie and I became an official couple, I realized how appropriate that was. An unformed pearl for an unformed couple.

I hand the pearl to her, and it is just what is needed to break the silence, and any awkwardness that is still between us. Her face shines brightly, lighting up in a huge smile, and she clutches the pearl to her chest.

"I have always wanted to find a pearl," she says.

A strange wish for someone who lives by the sea.

And then the memory passes. I break my lips from Annie's and hold her to me, tightly. Staring at her now, she reminds me of how she once was. And I wish that I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever.


	5. Chapter 5

After a glorious hour spent in a small coffee shop with Annie, I return to my assigned room to watch the games. The President will look for me here, and my absence, however temporary, could trigger an attack. Several woman wave and blink their eyelashes as I pass, other stand in awe, and one or two wave a friendly greeting. I enter the room, holding my emotions in check.

President Snow is standing near the front, eyes fixated on the screen, where Katniss is feeding some kind of berry to Peeta, who is focused only on keeping it down. I close my eyes for a moment, waiting for what is to come. I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up. Lyme, another victor, and mentor for the tributes from two, looks deeply into my eyes. Then she gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze, and I realize that she understands what I am going through. I wonder what the Capitol has forced upon her that is enough to make her understand my pain. I place my hand on top of hers and nod, accepting her gesture of encouragement. It is nice to be understood.

The President begins to turn, and Lyme removes her hand and begins speaking to her district partner, as though she had never noticed me. Luckily, is does not seem that Snow noticed the exchange, and we are both safe. He comes up to me, and hands me a slip of paper, with an address written on it. His snakelike eyes meet my own, and I nod once.

"Now," he states, simply,"They must get what they paid for."

I cringe at his words, and meaning. That I am just something to be sold and bought at will.

And really, I am.

But I nod anyway.

His eyes bore holes into me, reading me, searching me. I shiver involuntarily, and he smiles. He lives on the fear of others.

The scent of roses and blood catches my nose.

Finally, he releases my gaze, and I know I must go. Lyme gives me a last glance, nodding once. I don't acknowledge her, as President Snow's eyes are still looking my direction. She will understand.

Leaving the room, I walk slowly down the long hallway to the elevator, keeping my breathing steady. One would think that after years of this, you would get used to it. But I never have, and I know I never will. This is President Snow's way of sending a message. That even the victors, the strongest of the districts, are completely under his control. Of course, no one outside of the victors themselves knows what goes on behind closed doors, but it is enough for us ourselves to know that we are helpless.

The long elevator ride down to the ground floor seems to pass in an instant, and once again I am stepping outside. The sunset has long since passed, and a chilly wind sweeps the city. I step quickly onto a city bus, and give the driver the address on the paper. Again, it does not take us nearly long enough to reach the destination. I step out into the cool evening air and stare at the massive, luxurious residence that will be my home for the night.

My home.

My prison.

Once again, I am drowning. My breathing slows until I realize that I have altogether stopped. I wonder if I could hold it long enough to faint, so they would have to take me to the hospital. I would be given one night of freedom. But he would know. He would understand. Always his threat hangs over me.

It was so much easier before Annie came into my life, before the threat of her death hung over me as well. The only consolation I have is that he has not harmed her. No one wants to spend the night with a poor, lost, mad girl.

Except me. I would give anything to be with her tonight.

Besides, there could suddenly be many people wanting to spend the night with her, if I resist. So I don't.

I take another moment to calm myself, and to calm my breathing. I begin to shake again, and I stick my hands into my pockets to warm them. I can't enter the house like this.

My finger touch something inside my pocket, and curl around a small object.

I pull it out and examine it, my heart filling with warmth and memories at the sight of the words on the paper and the object that accompanies them.

Our last days together in District Four, before her own reaping. The days I considered her to be only a friend. But one moment in particular plants itself in my brain, and flashes through my mind.

It was a week before the reaping. I had not seen Annie the day before, as she had been busy at home. That night, I had gone to her house and stood outside her window, tossing a few small pebbles to wake her up.

She came to the window, her hair tied back in a tight bun against her head, wearing a nightgown. For a moment she looked confused, and then she saw me, a few feet below her, on the ground. Surprise filled her eyes, and for a moment, fear.

She shook her head, quickly, and pointed away, telling me without words that I could not be here. I shook my head, crossed my arms and held my ground. I needed to talk to her.

She rolled her eyes, and pointed to the beach, holding up her right hand.

The beach. Five minutes.

I nodded to her, and headed down to wait, sitting against a tree, watching the waves. Her birthday was coming up, and I wanted to do something special for her, but I had decided that she needed to know first. The truth. From me.

Exactly five minutes later, I heard a branch crack behind me, and turned my head. It has always amazed me, how quickly she can come and go without being heard.

"Finnick," her tone is full of chastisement,"You know what my father would do if he found us out here at night. He doesn't consider me to be to old for the strap. Besides, he doesn't even approve of our friendship. You know what he thinks about you."

I nod,"I needed to talk to you, Annie. I wouldn't have come at night if it wasn't important. You know that."

The frown and chastising look leaves her face. She gives me a small smile.

"I know."

I take her hand and lead her a few feet from the water. The sand is warm and soft underneath us, having not yet released the warmth that it holds from the afternoon sun. I sit, cross legged on the beach, and she does the same, facing me. Her hair is down now, swept here and there by the wind, and her eyes, as always, are a beautiful, shimmering green.

Now is the time.

"I have not slept much for the last two weeks," I tell her," Meeting you, well, it has brought back memories of my past, and of my future. It feels wrong to tell you the truth, yet it almost feels worse to keep it a secret. So you have to promise. No matter what. No one else ever hears about this. I am trusting you with my life, and possibly with yours as well."

Annie's face is serious as she speaks the words, "I swear it, Finnick. No one will know."

I nod, and then pause for a moment, staring at my hands.

Calloused from years spent practicing with a trident, and still carrying fading scars from when they were caught in the line of a belt. I don't know where to start. My story is a difficult one to tell.

Finally, I meet her eyes, which have not left my face.

"My father was my enemy, and yet my lifeline. I would never have won the games without him. Would never have felt the need to train and practice without him. I owe him my life, really. The truth, though, is so much harder to tell..." I stop, but only for a second. And then, in a long, run on sentence, that lasts for what seems like hours, I pour out my story. Everything. Well, almost everything. I leave out only one detail, the one that I should not care about, but that hurts me the most. She seems to read my mind though, because when I have finished, she asks the one question that forces me to confess.

"Did you ever try to resist him, Finnick?"

I close my eyes, not wanting to respond, but knowing that the question merits a reply.

"Yes," I tell her,"Once. Only Once."

Her eyes meet mine, and for the first time in my life, I put into words what occurred that first night. The night I lost my father and gained a new one.

It was the second hunger games after my victory. I had not yet taken on the challenge of mentoring, as we have more than enough older and wiser victors to do so in District Four. But I was at the Capitol. I was left alone until the Games began, and it was then that the President first came to me. Or, had me come to him.

I was summoned to his mansion, and brought to a room full of all kinds of roses. At the time, I thought it was the most beautiful room I had ever been in, and the scent was one of heaven. Since then, I have grown to hate roses, and their scent has become putrid to me.

He met me there, and we sat down in the middle of his garden. It was there that he explained to me what it meant to be a victor. How many of the citizens of the Capitol were in love with me, and how he could not disappoint them. How it was his job to make sure his citizens were happy. He asked me what my price would be, and I told him I wouldn't do it.

"Finnick, my boy, I don't think you understand. You will do it. You do not have a choice in the matter. I am being kind to offer you some sort of recompense for your troubles."

I shook my head,"I will not. You can't force this on me."

He shakes his head, and when he speaks it is like he is correcting a disobedient child,"Finnick, Finnick, Finnick. You do not understand what the consequences will be."

I did not understand. I was only sixteen, still a boy really. It was that night that I became a man.

He led me to a room, where two peacekeepers tied me to a post. Then my father entered the room. He was dressed in his simple fishing gear, and looked as though he had just come from our District. But his eyes were somehow different. They were not his eyes. I didn't realize it at the time, but I later became wise to the fact that he was not truly my father, but a mutt. A creation of the Capitol. For me, this moment was horrific.

He began to uncurl his belt, and President Snow laughed softly. He never spoke, though, just raised the belt as he always had, and brought it down on me again. I will never be free of him, or his last touch.

My hands were tied, keeping me from using them to suppress my screams. And my mutt father was far stronger than my real one.

After a while of this, the President got bored. I was sobbing, my fists clenched. I tried to be strong, but being strong is almost impossible in the face of perfect weakness. He spoke then:

"What say you now, Finnick, my son," the President's voice was teething with anger and madness.

I didn't respond, I was not going to give in after that.

He shook his head, and had the guards untie me. I thought it was over, I thought I had won.

How naive I was.

The guards held my mutt father, who I believed to be the real one, against the wall, and handed the President a gun. He did not hesitate, and shot my father through the chest. He fell in a limp pile on the ground.

I stopped crying. I stopped breathing. I have always wondered if my heart stopped in that moment as well, for just a moment.

The President gestured to the guards, who dragged me out and brought me to the hospital to be cleaned up and given a full body polish.

They left my scars, though. To remind me of that day, and of my perfect weakness.

That night, I slept in my own bed.

The next, the torture began. And has not ended.

When I came back to my district, I was told that my father had been killed in a boating accident when I had been gone. I pretended to be surprised, and I never told.

But I have never resisted again.

And so it goes, the strong man, sex-symbol of the Capitol, is actually only a weak boy, longing for love, longing to be free.

I am weeping again by the time I finish the story, and Annie wraps her arms around me, speaking words of comfort. We sat there on the sand for a long time, crying together.

That is the first time that it occurred to me that I might love her. I didn't know, though. I was still to wary of anything that had to do with love.

Finally she got up and whispered that she had to go. I didn't want her to leave, but I understood. I stayed there for the rest of the night, not going back home until the grey light of dawn began to cover the horizon.

When I finally did stand up, my hands were frozen from shaking and tears, so I slipped them into my pocket. What I found then, standing on the beach of District Four, is the same thing I find now, under the eerie streetlight of the capitol.

An object and a note.

Four simple words

"I love you, Finnick."

And a sugar cube.

I may be able to face the night, after all.

* * *

A/N Thanks again for reading! Please review, let me know what you think! I really appreciate the feedback! :)


	6. Chapter 6

Noon daylight is streaming in through the window when I finally awaken. In my own bed, back in District Four. My eyes fall on the bedside table, and come to rest on the note and sugar cube that lie there.

"I love you, Finnick."

The words make me feel both warm and scared. Love is something that I have always longed for, but have never known how to attain. Annie is special, there is no doubting that. But I don't know if I love her. I don't know if I ever will.

With love comes such a great price, and it is a price I am not sure that I am willing to pay. Besides, a heart that has been withheld for so long can be easily deceived. And I do not want to hurt Annie.

I pull myself out of bed and check the time. 2:00. I stumbled into bed last night just after 5, and did not fall asleep until after seven. There were too many things on my mind.

I feel much better rested, now, though. Sharing with Annie last night was the right thing to do, even if it has only confused me more in my thoughts about her. I promised myself once, that I would never fall in love. I had been hurt too many time. Now, I am no longer sure if that promise is valid.

I don't bother with a shirt and head down to the beach for a swim. Old ladies on the beach give me disgusted looks, and the young woman stop and stare for a moment, before going on their way. I wish I could just blend in with the crowd, but being a victor makes that almost impossible. Especially a victor like me.

"Finnick." I hear my name being called and turn around. I expect to see Annie, but then remember that it is Friday, and she will be in school. Instead, I see the mayor, standing on the steps of the justice building, waving me over. I turn and walk towards him, wishing he had not seen me. The mayor seems like a nice enough person, but I prefer not to be around anyone who is in any way affiliated with the Capitol.

"Beautiful day for a swim, eh Finnick?" he questions, giving me a once over. His eyebrows lower so that they almost touch his eyes, in a disproving glance. I automatically lower my eyes like a guilty child, before I realize that I don't have to. This is not President Snow, nor a peacekeeper, nor anyone with any real authority over me. But I am so used to bowing to others that I cannot seem to voice my own opinion.

The mayor doesn't speak for a moment, and then places his hand on my shoulder.

"Come in, Finnick, I have something to speak to you about."

I walk through the doors of the Justice Building, and once again am awed by the majesty of it. The paintings, the architecture, the domed ceilings. I have been here twice before. Once, for final goodbyes after I was chosen in the Reaping, and second during my Victory Tour. I have had many opportunities to come in since, including during the Victory Tours of other Victors, but have always avoided it. The memories it holds are to painful.

I am brought into an office and the mayor gestures that I should have a seat. The plush visitors chair seems to envelope me. I wish I had remained standing.

"I received a phone call from the Capitol today," The mayor begins.

I wonder what this could have to do with me.

"From the President himself, actually."

My mind begins to spin, and again I am drowning. Suffocating.

The mayor's next words are unheard, as I try to calm myself and control my emotions once again.

When I surface from the waters of thought and memory, the mayor is staring at me quizzically. I ask him to repeat himself, and after a pause, he does.

"He told me to let you know that you will be mentoring the tributes from District Four this year. Both of them. Mags, your mentor, will be there to help you, but they will be your responsibility."

I nod my head, letting out a breath of relief. Not that I have any desire to mentor the tributes from my district, but I knew that the day would come soon enough. Perhaps this will give me a break from Snow's assaults, as a mentor is to be on call at all times. Then I realize why he has Mags with me. To take my place when I am 'needed' elsewhere. I force myself to stay on the surface. I am a good swimmer, but in these type of situations I tend to drown more often than not.

The mayor hands me a slip of paper and a pen, asking me to sign a few sheets. I don't read them, knowing that what they say will be irrelevant in the end. Finally, I am able to pass over the pen and leave the office.

I stumble down the stair in my effort to get out, and throw open the doors without bothering to catch them as they close. They bang shut with a loud slam.

I no longer worry about who is watching. I make a break for the ocean, running as fast as I can. Trying to outrun my pain, my past, my present, and my future. But it is impossible to outrun what is always surrounding you.

I race up the dock for a fishing boat and dive off the end. Submerging myself in the saltiness of the ocean. Surrounding myself with something other than thoughts and memories.

I dive, as deep as I can, holding my breath until my body gives out, and floats to the surface on its own. I gasp for breath and dive again, and again.

Finally I resurface in a cal spirit. My body has returned to normal and I, Finnick, am again in control. I pull myself up onto the dock and sit, staring out at the water. The waves crashing back and forth against the rocks and sand. A gull flying overhead, fish swimming underneath. A ways off I watch as a whale surfaces and then dives again. Free. As I never will be.

I pull my jacket on over my bare, wet skin, and reach into the pocket for the sugar cube, forgetting that it is still sitting on my bedside table. I take a deep breath, and tell myself to be strong. To make the best of this situation. To hold onto what strength I have left, and to allow myself to love Annie. But I can't. I have been broken to many times, I have fallen apart into millions of pieces. Shattered, like the water in a wave shatters upon the shore.

I remember one day, when I was eleven, and I brought a wooden trident that I had carved into the house. I was playing with it, when I knocked over a vase. A clay one, that my mother had made before she died, painted in deep greens and purples. It shattered.

It was one of the few times that my clumsiness did not result in my father's belt. Instead, he told me that I must put it back together. He meant to teach me a lesson. Thinking back on it, it would probably have been easier if he would have belted me and gotten it over with.

It took my mother a month to find the clay, shape the pot, find the right berries for paint, and decorate the vase. It took me ten to glue it back together. What it taught me has nothing to do with vases or shattered clay, but with myself. It taught me that it takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.

Suddenly, I feel the urge to laugh, and I do. I laugh, because my situation is so funny. I am a victor, physically free from the arena, but never really free from it. A victor, physically strong and able to handle everything, but truly weak and incapable of anything. Victorious, but lost. Free, yet a prisoner.

In that moment, I realize something that I have never realized before.

No matter what I do, what I think I can do, I will never be truly free. All that matters is what I do with the time that I have been given. There are things that no man can take away. Love is one of them. I am free to love Annie, and no one can take that from me. I am free to be happy, even in the face of terrible circumstances. And I am free to be me, Finnick Odair, no better who anyone else says I am.

That realization changed my life. I am not who they say I am, I am who I say I am, and no one can take that from me. It is one freedom that is mine.

I am broken, yes, but I can be rebuilt. I will never be the same, no, but no one who has seen what I have seen can ever be the same. I have a choice to waste my life or to use it. To hold on, or to let the wind come and sweep away what hope I do have.

I find myself in my bedroom again, and realize that I must have walked here while lost in thought. My eyes fall once again on the sugar cube and I realize that it is more than just a sweet, white lump. It is a gift. It is a symbol.

A symbol of hope.


	7. Chapter 7

The Capitol is silent when I slip from the bed, dress quickly, and leave the house without waking the owner. The dream, which was also a memory, has refreshed and rejuvenated me, despite the difficulty of the night. Right now, though, all I want is to see Annie.

I consider walking back to my viewing room, when I remember this morning's feast. Judging by the still-dark sky, it is still an hour to dawn, but not enough time to walk and still find out what this feast has in store for the Games and the contestants. I do not enjoy watching the Games, but everything that I see helps me to mentor District Four's tributes.

As I walk to the bus station, I find that I have begun to whistle. This overnight change in myself surprises me, and I know that I have only Annie to thank for this. She is the one thing that keeps me sane. I could not survive without her.

Of course, there was one time when I almost had to.

I don't let myself think on it much. I prefer to remember our times together before the reaping that changed both of our lives. I wish that I had come to the conclusion of my love for her sooner, so that we could have had more happy memories. Still, I cherish those I do hold, and I know that the future holds many more.

I step onto the empty bus, and take a seat near the front. The bus driver seems excited to have the privilege of driving Finnick Odair, and I wonder if my face will appear on the side of his bus by tomorrow. A bus with my face on the side is sure to be more busy than one with, say, the President's face. I smile at the thought. That the Capitol loves me more than their own president, and yet they have injured me in ways I cannot measure.

But, then again, there are many things that one cannot measure. Like love, for instance. I never understood Annie's love for me in those first few weeks. She loved me when I myself did not love me. When I was still struggling over whether or not I could ever love, she loved me. Unconditionally. I cannot measure love like that. Unconditional love is the only thing in this broken world that makes any sense. I guess that is when I realized that I could love Annie. That day on the beach, when she told me that she would wait for me. That she would love me, and wait until the day when I could love her in return, if that day ever came. Someone who would love me no matter what, deserved to be loved in return.

I can still remember her face, her smile, that first day...

It was three days before the reaping, and the square was already being set up with television stands and large screens and speakers for the camera crews. I was a victor, and Annie lived in town and had never signed up for tesserae, so neither of us was worried about the reaping. Well, I was, but only because of the new job that I would hold. The fear that I would let my district down.

Annie had made a picnic and we had set out a blanket by the ocean. We sat side by side, not touching, but just being near each other. We talked about our lives, and shared our hearts. When she began packing up the picnic basket to go home, I knew it was time.

"Annie, wait."

She set down the basket and turned to me," What is it?"

I drink in the sight of her like this. Her brown hair is tied down her back in a long braid to keep it from blowing in her face. Her green sundress makes the radiance of her eyes stand out far more than normal. Her face, free then, from all the cares it now holds, was young, innocent, beautiful.

"I brought something for our, picnic."

Annie looks at me quizzically, confused," But, Finnick, we ate almost an hour ago. Why didn't you tell me then?"

I grin, allowing the smile to spread across my face, and then I wink,"I didn't think that what I brought would go so well with sandwiches."

Confusion is etched into her face, and I laugh, because I can't help it. And because I am happier now, in this moment, than I have ever been in my life.

She glares at me now, "Don't laugh at me, that's not fair. I have no idea what you are talking about...you are making no sense."

I hold back my laughter for a moment, and dig into my pocket, fishing out the two small objects that I have there.

"Remember what you told me, Annie, two days ago, on the beach."

She thinks for a moment, her brows creasing in thought.

"I told you a lot of things, Finnick. I hold to all of them."

I nod, and hold out a sugar cube to her.

"I love you, Annie."

For a moment she seems to be in shock, like she cannot understand this moment, nor this turn of events. Then her face breaks out into a smile. It covers her face, and transforms her into a creature that I can only associate with the angels of our District's myths. She is not pretty, she is not beautiful.

She is as radiant as the sun.

She stands there for a moment, and then falls into my arms, embracing me. I hold her tightly to me, never wanting to let her go. Not even for a moment.

"I know my birthday is not for a few days, Finnick, but you could not have given me a better gift, if you had given me the whole world," she whispers.

I realize she has tears streaming down her face, and I brush my finger across her cheeks to wipe them away.

"Don't cry. Don't cry, Annie."

Then I realize that I am crying to.

I am weeping, uncontrollably. Because I have longed for this moment all my life. The moment when I am finally free. When I finally feel loved, accepted.

And now I do.

Annie's arms tighten around me, and she whispers in my ear:

"I love you, Finnick, I will never leave you. Never."

I could not have asked for any more than this. I could not have dreamed for anything better than this. That was the moment when I truly, really, for the first time, fell in love with this girl.

What she did next, I should have seen coming, but somehow it surprised me.

She leaned in and gently brushed my lips with her own. I held her to me tighter, and though I can't say that I have not kissed another woman in my life, this was the first time that I wanted to.

Really wanted to.

And it stirred my heart. I knew then, that I could never let her go. That, no matter what, no matter the troubles or difficulties that it might cause, it would Annie and I forever.

Together, forever.

No matter what.

We left the beach, soaking in our newfound love for each other.

Hand in hand.


	8. Chapter 8

The next few days consist of us being apart only when we go to bed at night. I convince Annie to skip school, and she does, after much persuasion, when I admit to her that I have to go to the Capitol to mentor in a few days.

Finally the day arrives. And, I am not allowed to drown in my sorrows or fears, because today is also Annie's birthday, and the last day that I will see her for close to a month. I wake up early, and go to her house. We sit on the beach and wait for the sunrise.

"Finnick, why did you choose me?" She questions," when you could have had anyone?"

I sit, silent for a moment, before responding.

"Because you loved me, truly loved me, when no one else did."

She nods slowly, thinking about my answer.

"And," I continue," You were worth waiting for."

She gives me a small smile, and leans her head on my shoulder. We sit there for a moment, and I wonder why she does not respond. Then I realize.

She has fallen asleep.

I savor this moment, the peace before the storm. I know, somehow, that after today, nothing will be the same. I didn't know, however, how right I was.

I return to my world of thought, allowing myself a brief moment of despair, of pain, before the sun begins to rise over the horizon, giving me hope.

Hope that tomorrow, however painful, will pass. Hope that there will be many more morning like this one, to come.

I gently shake Annie awake, and we sit in silence, hand in hand, watching the sun rise over the water.

When the sun is fully up, I turn to her, and smile.

"I have something for you. Something for you to remember me by, when I am not here."

Her eyes shimmer, brimming with both tears and happiness. A strange mixture.

"I will never forget you, Finnick, never."

I roll my eyes, and then wink playfully, "I am sure that there are plenty of boys around here for you to fall for while I am gone."

She frowns at me, and says,"Don't joke like that, Finnick. After everything that has happened...I don't find it funny."

I nod. "Sorry."

Then I reach into my pockets and pull out two items. The first is a sugar cube, because that has become a symbol to me. A symbol of hope, in the midst of impossibility. A symbol of how fear can be overcome, and freedom can be obtained, even in the midst of a prison.

She smiles, and accepts the cube, placing it in her pocket.

The second item I give her is a locket. Gold, but air brushed to match her eyes, and delicately hand crafted. It is in the shape of a heart, with a pearl embedded on the front. She opens it, and inside, I have placed a picture of myself, along with a small note, in my own handwriting.

You set me me free, when no one else could. Happy sixteenth birthday. I love you. Finnick.

She smiles as I fasten the clasp against the back of her neck.

"Thank you, Finnick."

Then I kiss her, and after I whisper softly:

"I will wait impatiently to get back here for more moments like these. And, of course, more kisses."

She giggles, and for a moment, she is just a girl. I prefer her like that, really. But the moment passes far to fast for my liking. It is time to get ready for the reaping.

"You have given me the best birthday ever, Finnick," she whispers, getting ready to go.

I hold her in my arms, not willing to give her up, just yet. She wraps her own around me, and we sit like that, for another hour, soaking up these last few moments.

When I wake up, I find myself lying on the beach, my back to a tree, in the afternoon sunshine. For a moment I am confused, wondering what I am doing here. Then I remember, the reaping.

Leaping to my feet, I glance at the sun, and judge it to be about 2:00.

Thank goodness.

It would not be a good thing to be late for my first reaping as a mentor.

I wonder, though, why Annie left me here. Why she didn't wake me up.

Then I realize.

She didn't want to say goodbye. It would have been too painful, especially after such a magical morning. The thought of being away from her, for even a moment, tears at my heart as well.

I wonder if I will be able to face the long nights in the Capitol again, dragging myself out of nightmares only to find that there is no relief in waking. Once again, I feel more like the weak boy, at the mercy of my father, the Capitol, and the President, rather than the strong victor everyone believes me to be.

I close my eyes and lean against the tree again, taking deep breaths to keep my head above the water that once again threatens to drown me.

I focus my thoughts on Annie, focus on pushing everything else aside. I begin to shake, and tears stream down my face, but I just focus harder. Focus on anything but what is coming. Anything but what this next month will bring.

But I can't shut out the past. Annie may have cut my bonds, but it takes a long time for a prisoner to get used to freedom. Especially when they have only been unchained, and are still locked inside the prison walls.

Really, I have spent my entire life locked in an arena, trying to think my way out.

And no one escapes the arena except the victor. And the victor can only be one person. Which I am. Which I am not.

I am Finnick Odair. I am a boy. I am a man. I am a victor. I am not free.

I will never be free.

I force myself to my feet, with all these thoughts threatening to not only drown me, but to choke me, to strangle me. All my life, I have put on a mask. Only now do I truly understand, for the first time, what Annie said when she spoke of how I needed to take off the mask.

But I have gotten used to it. It has become my savior. I hide behind it, and it makes me strong. Without it, I am only a boy with a trident.

That isn't so very much, after all.

Then I remember something. Something that has not come to my mind for years. Something my mother once told me, before she died.

She was a victor too. I suppose she must have struggled in the same way I am, now. Because the wisdom in her words was meant for me.

It was when I was five. I had entered school for the first time, and felt isolated, being a victor's child. No one talked to me. I came home in tears, and fell into my mothers arms. She held me for a moment and then said:

"Finnick, son, I know this may not seem like it helps, now. But you will understand one day. A very wise woman once told me that: 'you've got to go through it to get to the end of it.' Enjoy the moments that you can, because they may be few. But don't let the hardships, the hurts, and the pain in life tear you down. Because, Finnick, there is good in this world, and it is worth fighting for. But how can you fight for the world if you are to broken to take a stand. Never fear the consequences of doing what is right."

It was a lot to say to a five year old on their first day of school. I had no idea what she meant, but somehow the words comforted me, and I have always remembered them, and kept them in the back of my mind. But they were not meant for a five year old, crying over a lack of friends. They were meant for a victor, to challenge him to take a stand. To be more than just a piece in their games.

I am not ready to stand up against the Capitol. I have, as my mother warned, become far to broken. But it occurs to me that sometimes those who are weak are the most capable to fight against the strong. Perhaps someday, someone else will take a stand, and I will be able to fight alongside them. I may not be a leader, but I would be a dedicated follower.

I walk to my house, considering all these things, and dress in an outfit provided by the Capitol themselves for the occasion. A pair of loose fitting white pants. A sea green top, with a red sash, open almost to my waist. And a necklace complete with a shark tooth. Even though I have lived by the ocean all my life, I am unable to tell whether it is real or not real.

I check the clock, the time reading 2:45. The reaping begins at 3:00 sharp. I need to hurry.

Locking my door, I hurry down the cobblestone road through the Victor's Village that leads to the square, and the steps of the Justice Building, where the ceremony will be held. Reaf, District Four's announcer, is already present, as is the mayor. I don't see Mags. Oh, wait, there she is, climbing the steps with some assistance from the railing.

I hurry up beside her, and help her the rest of the way. She winks at me, and I smile. If anyone can cheer me up, it is Mags. She mentored me in my Games. I wouldn't have won without her advice.

At exactly three the mayor begins with a speech. It is the same every year. And then a video. The same every year. Then Reaf stands up and begins his speech, about what a privilege it is to be here. This, also, is the same every year.

I begin to zone out.

Finally, Reaf's speech comes to a close, and he walks over to the boys bowl. Most districts begin with the girls. In fact, the most hilarious looking Capitol woman, Effie Trinket, I believe her name is, states every year in a high-pitched, Capitol accent, "Ladies First." I have to suppress a laugh, thinking of the way she says every year,"Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor." Mags gives me a stern look, and I straighten up, faking complete control. Pretending to be the strong victor everyone wants to see.

I don't recognize the name called for the boys. A fifteen year old, Nolan Bard. My mind wanders again, as Reaf asks for volunteers, and, surprisingly, none accept. My mind focuses on Annie again, and how much I wish that she was coming with me, that I didn't need to be...

"Annie Cresta."

I freeze at the sound of the name, thinking that I must have spoken my thoughts out loud. I look around, but no one's eyes are on me. Instead every eye is on a girl standing a few rows back. Dressed in a green outfit, with her hair flying in the wind. Sea green eyes piercing into mine.

I don't understand for a moment. I can't place the voice, and Annie's name.

Then it hits me.

Annie separates herself from her friends. From all of the girls. From the entire group of children gathered together.

Her name was called. She was reaped.

She climbs the stairs. Reaf asks for volunteers. I hold my breath, silently pleading, begging, anyone to take her place.

No one does.

She shakes hands with Nolan, and then the two of them disappear inside the Justice Building.

I realize what has happened. My wish has been, however wrongly, granted. Annie is coming to the Capitol with me.

Annie is to be a tribute in the Hunger Games.

I want to stop this. To put an end to this. To volunteer myself to take her place. But I can't, I can't, I can't.

Not only am I helpless, but I am at fault.

This is my fault.

My fault.

Mine.

I don't cry, I just stare at the cameras. Any reaction from me will only hurt her now. Instead, I forget what is going on. I remove myself from the situation, and instead recall our last night together. Yesterday. In the cave.

We met when the sun went down. Annie seemed somehow nervous. When I asked her what was wrong, she shrugged me off. I persisted, and she finally told me that she was worried about the reaping. I laughed, told her not to worry. That she had no chance of being picked. There were over ten thousand female names in that bowl, and Annie was only written on five of them.

She nodded, but she still seemed worried.

I wrapped my arms around her, and she sat in my lap, leaning against me.

Safe.

Or so I thought.

We spent a few hours like that, talking, kissing, and just being in each other's arms in the privacy of the cave, overlooking the river. Nothing else happened, of course, we were as innocent as children in our love for one another. We just wanted to be together, that was all that mattered.

I loved her. She loved me. There was nothing fake, or unreal about our love.

I...

"Finnick?"

I shake my head, freeing myself from the memory, and see Mags looking down at me. "Are you alright, Finnick?"

I consider saying no, but I look down and see that everyone has already dispersed. I must have been lost in thought for far longer than I realized.

"No." I say. I can be honest with Mags. Only with Mags can I share my heart.

Mags nods, "Annie, right?"

I nod. Trust Mags to figure that one out.

"No one else can know, Finnick. If the President found out this early on..."

"I know, Mags. I know."

She gives me a gentle smile. "They will be leaving soon, Finnick. Annie will need you to be strong for her."

I know this. It is what I worry about. How can I be strong for Annie when I have no strength in me for myself?

"You are stronger than you yourself know, Finnick. And that strength is about to be tested. I'm here for you, remember that."

"Thank you, Mags. Come on, we had better get to the train station."

Mags nods, and I walk with her towards the train. Towards, perhaps, the death of the only true love I have ever had.

And I am powerless to stop it.

This is why, as I sit on the bus in the Capitol, four years later, I try to focus on the happy points of life. The good days, rather than the bad. Yet it is also why I find it so difficult to watch this particular Hunger Games, because it remind me too much of the situation I myself was in, only a few years back.

It is still dark when I dismount the bus and enter the building. The elevator ride seems to take forever, compared to the quickness of last evening. I enter the viewing room just as the dawn breaks the horizon, and a table is raised into the arena. I sit beside Lyme, because Annie is not in the room. Of course, she tries to stay away from the Games as much as she can. She is probably still sleeping.

Lyme, on the other hand, is fully alert. She still has two tributes in them, and with the new rule, she is desperate to get them both out alive. I feel someone sit down beside me, and find Haymitch, yet another victor. Also with two tributes still in the Games. I am sitting in between the fiercest competitors, at this moment. I try not to think about it, and instead fix my eyes on the screen, where a redheaded girl has just darted out of the Cornucopia to snatch up a backpack marked with a large 5. Then, out of the bushes, runs Katniss, the girl tribute from 12. I hear Haymitch growl with anxiety, as the girl from 2 joins her. Katniss attempts a shot, but it is weak, and Clove, the district 2 girl, soon has her on her back, knife raised. I brace myself for the imminent cannon shot, when I hear Lyme muttering,"don't be an idiot Clove, she is not your enemy, don't make it any worse than it needs to be." And suddenly Clove is not longer on top of Katniss, but rather being smashed into the Cornucopia by Thresh, the boy from eleven. She calls out for her partner, Cato, but is dead before he realizes what has happened. Thresh gives Katniss a once over and then says, "Just this once, Twelve, I let you go. For Rue."

Lyme is cursing under her breath, as a cannon shot signals Clove's death. Katniss takes off into the trees, placing the odds entirely in District Twelve's favor. Something that has not happened for 24 years. Not since Haymitch himself won the Games.

I must admit, this turn of events is more than I could have hoped for. I do not like the Games, and I do not believe that President Snow will let them both live, but at least they will experience a few last days of peace.

I decide to find Annie. Maybe we can spend the day together, somewhere quiet.

Alone.


	9. Chapter 9

I don't see Annie that day. Instead, on my way out, I run into President Snow. This isn't abnormal during the Games, as he spends a decent amount of time here, by the large screens, watching the games. Here, where he can call on any victor or gamemaker at any time to do his bidding. When he sees me, he gestures me to come sit with him.

Of course, I do. I don't exactly have a choice.

He is sitting at a table in a large room, and when I join him, the room quickly empties, leaving the two of us alone.

"Remember what I told you that day, Finnick. That day that you swore you would do what ever I said."

I nod slowly. It's true, of course. I had to. I had no choice.

"Well, you have done a wonderful job of keeping up your side of the bargain." His voice is cold, telling me that there is something else,"But, Finnick, I wanted someone the Capitol would look upon and love. You played your part well the first few games. But this year, there has been a difference. You are no longer yourself."

I cringe inwardly. I expected this, but not this soon. He expects me to be happy, flirtatious, as though I desire to do what he forces me into. And I have done my best to wear the mask he has placed upon me. But it is not who I am. It is difficult to play the role of someone you are not, when everyone you care about, save one, hates you for it.

Snow's snakelike eyes glare at me, waiting for an answer.

I lower my head. "I will do better. I will play the role."

Snow chuckles," No, Finnick, you will not play the role. You will become the role. Or, do you not love that poor, mad girl...as much as I thought?"

My heart stops. Literally stops. Because I have known all along that Annie's life could be on the line if I fail, but he has never personally threatened me with it.

"I will," is all I can choke out. I breath slowly for a moment," I will not fail. Please...please don't hurt her. I beg you. Please." I am on the verge of tears, the verge of drowning yet again. But I must be strong here, now. To be weak in front of Snow is to be nothing.

He nods, "I know you will. I expected nothing less."

He stands up, and walks past me, stopping just beside me. Then he leans down, his breathe warming the tip of my ear.

"Just remember, Finnick. Remember how helpless you are. Remember who you are."

Then he is gone.

I know who I am. I am Finnick Odair. The sex symbol of the Capitol. Known all around Panem for being flirtatious, and holding the so called record for going through many people in one trip. I am not the lover of Annie. I am not a broken boy from District Four. But most importantly, what Snow wants to remind me of, is that I am not a victor. I am not victorious. In fact, I am more lost now than I ever was before.

Snow is the only victor. Not me.

I turn from the room, leaving this moment behind me, but carrying it in my heart. I know now that I cannot be the broken boy that I have been on this trip. If I do so, Annie will die. Or worse.

I have to be who President Snow tells me to be. The role that I have played for years, and then dropped when going back home. The role that I have not played this time around. This is the role that I must play. That I must become.

I hear a shuffling of feet around the corner, and look up to see Cashmere. A District One victor. I put on a bright smile, and wink at her. She gives me a seductive smile, and wraps her arm around mine.

"We were just talking about you. In the Victor's Lounge. Something seemed wrong with you this year. I guess we were wrong."

She laughs then, and I laugh with her. I have become quite adapt at the art of fake laughter, fake happiness.

She leads me to a room full of Victors, who smile when they see me. Slap me on the back. There are only a few tributes left in the Games, so they are here, enjoying what time they have left in the Capitol. I have not entered the lounge this trip, but I was always a favorite in past years.

Especially that year. The first year.

I was only sixteen at the time. My first year as a Mentor. Mags stood beside me while I entered the lounge for the first time as a mentor. I almost wished that I could hold her hand. I still felt like a boy.

The victors shouted out cries when I entered, and I was surrounded by a large group of them, congratulating me on my first year as a mentor. We have always been a tight group, us victors.

There was Brutus, the strong, muscular victor from 2. He slapped me on the back, and called for another round of drinks. I don't drink. Never have. I have seen what it has done to too many of the victors.

Then Cashmere and Gloss, the brother and sister team who won in consecutive years. They are very close, and both love the Capitol. They would spend all year here, if they could. Cashmere struck me as quite beautiful, but nothing compared to Annie.

Enobaria, another victor from 2, with her teeth all pointed at the ends, to represent how she won her games. I steer clear of her.

Haymitch, the only living victor from 12, stumbled towards me, and stuck out his hand in a greeting. His tributes are pretty much already dead. I take his hand, but don't stay around to talk.

I look around then, and find that Mags is no longer with me, but standing in a circle of victors, laughing and talking.

Two District Eleven Victors find me then, Chaff and Seeder. They lead me to a table near the edge of the Lounge, where there are less people. They must have noticed how uncomfortable I felt.

"So," Chaff asked," How is your first year of torture going?

Seeder glares at him, and I realize that he, like Haymitch, seems to be drunk. I wonder if they do it because it keeps them from living in this horrible reality. I wonder if it really is so bad.

But it is. Of course it is. Alcohol makes people do stupid things.

Seeder touches my arm gently, and I think that I could like her. She asks me about Annie, and I realize that she knows, somehow. I don't tell her anything, of course.

It is far too dangerous.

I left after a while, and went back to the District Twelve apartments. Annie is probably in her room, and because of surveillance, I can not go and see her. Instead, I go to my own room, order supper, and fall asleep on the bed.

Those nightmares were the worst I have ever had.

I shake my head to clear it of the memories and turn back to Cashmere, who is staring at me quizzically.

"Or maybe they were onto something," she says," You are acting different."

I laugh it off," Sorry, I was just thinking. I wrap my arm around her waist to reassure her that everything is alright. She gives me a small smile, and then leaves to find her brother, Gloss. I don't think she can stand being away from him for long.

I feel a hand on my arm, and look up into the worried eyes of Johanna Mason. She won the games three years ago. The 71st Hunger Games. It took awhile, but we have become very good friends. I trust her more than I trust anyone here. She understands me better than the rest of them.

We sit down at the same table I sat at with Chaff and Seeder that first Games. Quietly, so no one else can hear, I tell her what happened. I wouldn't tell anyone else, but as I said, I trust her.

She nods when I am done, and places her hand on top of mine.

"I'm so sorry, Finnick."

I have tears in my eyes now, and she noticed them.

"Be strong."

I nod, and her demeanor changes instantly.

"C'mon, blockhead, don't just sit there. Let's go find something to do."

I smile at her, and this time, it is a genuine smile. Johanna whole family was killed by Snow, and she has no one left. But her strength, through it all, has helped me on so many occasions. I wink at her, and we are about to leave, when Haymitch chooses that moment to appear and join our table.

He is sober. That is the only reason that I don't get up and leave anyway. If Haymitch is sober, he has something important to say. Besides, something must have changed in him. Both his tributes are still alive.

"Listen you two, and listen quick. I don't know when I will get another opportunity to say this. Have you heard what happened?"

I shake my head. I have not followed the Games since a few days before, at the feast. I have only heard that Katniss and Peeta are still in it.

"The Games are over."

I stare at him blankly, as does Johanna.

"Who won?"

Haymitch gives me a quick run down. How the mutts attacked, how Katniss killed Cato in a mercy killing, how the Gamemakers decided to change the rules allowing for two victors. How Katniss held out those berries.

At that moment, I rest my head in my hands. Her family is probably already dead.

"She did not know what she was doing." Haymitch says.

I roll my eyes, "Well, obviously. But I don't understand what this has to do with us."

Haymitch takes a deep breath. "It doesn't, not officially. I was walking back to my room, when I passed the gamemakers chambers. I heard President Snow talking to the new head gamemaker. Plutarch. They have already executed Seneca Crane."

I nod. That is to be expected.

Haymitch closes his eyes. Then opens them," The President told Plutarch that next year's Quarter Quell is going to be of special magnificence. He said that he has already changed the Quell card."

My eyes widen, "but that is impossible, they were written years ago."

Haymitch nods.

I begin to shake,"What did it say, Haymitch?"

He is silent.

"What did it say," Johanne repeats.

When Haymitch speaks, I close my eyes. "For the 75th annual Hunger Games, the tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors."

It takes a moment for this to sink in. But when it does, my heart stops for the second time that day.

I am going back into the arena.


	10. Chapter 10

I sit in shock. I can't move. I can't speak. My mind is running in circles, trying to find a way to get out of this.

Of course, there are other male victors from District Four, so one of their names could be drawn, instead of mine. But I know that won't be the case. Probably every male slip will have my name on it, so that there is no chance of anyone else's being drawn. After all, I am one of the all time favorite victors. And Snow isn't happy with me.

There is no way out of this.

What I am really worried about, in this moment, is Annie. I know that if her name is drawn, no one will volunteer for her. And she will be killed. I may have a chance to win, but even if I put all of energy towards saving Annie, it won't happen. She is too frail, too fragile.

Snow knows this.

The female bowl will probably be filled with Annie's name as well.

I feel Johanna's hand on my shoulder. She is staring into my eyes. She knows that she is going as well. She is the only female victor left from District Seven, so there is no chance for her.

But she has no one left. She will probably enjoy this chance to make a last stand.

When I finally gain enough courage to meet her eyes, I realize that this is not the case. That her eyes are brimming with tears. That her nights are filled with as many nightmares as my own.

I look around the room, at the rest of the victors, trying to guess which of them will be chosen.

Chaff and Seeder are two of the only living victors from eleven, so I wouldn't be surprised if they are in this.

Brutus will probably volunteer. He's just like that.

Enobaria is the same way, and besides, with her crazy dental job, she became a Capitol favourite as well. And there is no doubt that the favourites will all be in this.

Beetee and Wiress, two older tributes, are the only victors left from District Three. They will be in it for certain.

Then my eyes catch Mags. My mentor. Her white hair falls down around her shoulders as she laughs. Her eyes crinkle up in the corners. And suddenly I realize that Annie will not be in it after all. Mags knows the truth. She knows she only has so many years left. I realize that no matter who's name is drawn, Mags will probably volunteer.

I feel both relief and horror. I can not stand to think about this anymore. These people are my friends. When we are thrown together in the arena as children, we don't know the others. It is difficult, painful, and it haunts your dreams. But I know these people. How can I kill them.

And the painful answer is that I can't.

I stare at Haymitch, who is just watching the two of us. I realize that I will not see him in the arena. There are only three living tributes from twelves. Haymitch. Katniss. Peeta.

Katniss will be drawn. Peeta will either be drawn or he will volunteer. His love for Katniss is real, no matter what she feels for him.

Somehow, I wonder if there will even be a victor in these next games. Or if the Capitol wants to throw us all together with the intent of making sure we are all dead. I wouldn't be surprised.

After what Katniss did, anything is possible.

And I realize that I hate her. It is wrong, I know. She didn't know what she was doing. But how can you feel anything but hate for the person who just signed your death warrant.

I breathe deeply. Hate hurts. I am not one to give over to it often, unless it involves the President or his minions. So I transfer my quick judgement of Katniss over to Snow. I allow myself a moment to wallow in this, and then I step away.

And Katniss is once again just a girl.

Haymitch is eyeing me now. I realize he has more to say. So I snap my mind back into the present, control my emotions, and focus on him.

Johanna notices the change and withdraws her hand from my shoulder, her own eyes now watching Haymitch.

"There have been rumors of uprisings in District Eleven, and perhaps a few of the other Districts. They are a pile of kindling, ready to be set ablaze, and Katniss has provided the spark. The President knows this, but he also knows that to kill her now will just provide a martyr. He won't risk that. The Games are his best chance to calm the rebellion. His way of saying that even the victors, our symbol of hope, are not strong enough to defeat the Capitol. His way of saying that we are powerless."

I close my eyes," And we are, Haymitch. We are."

He nods slowly. Then looks around. His eyes flit nervously from person to person. Then he stands up, and hands me a piece of paper.

"It's not safe here," he says. And then he leaves.

I unravel the small white slip, and read it, then hand it to Johanna.

"Roof. 7:00." Is all it says. I understand what it means, though. The training centre has a roof that is not monitored by camera. We aren't really supposed to go up there, so of course, no one will expect us too.

I look at Johanna, and she meets my eyes. We both know that the two of us will be in the arena next year. We both know that killing each other is not an option. We both know that because of this, our deaths our sealed.

We both know we are powerless.

I remember the first time I met Johanna. At the time, we seemed like the most unlikely of friends. Our personalities clashed in just about every way. She is rash, often immodest, and just too crazy. I doubt that she was always this way, of course, but it is what she had to do after the Games. I think, now, it has become who she is. It is her way of defying the Capitol. Of telling them that they do not own her, and that she can still be who she wants to be. They, of course, just take it as her true personality. And they either love her or hate her. There are no in betweens with Johanna. You either like her, or you don't. At first, I didn't like her at all.

I saw her briefly for the first time after her own games, three years ago. The 71st Hunger Games. I was in the crowd that year, when she was crowned as victor. When they asked her what her thoughts were on the Games, and how they had gone, she answered with these words," The Games are a sadistic tool of a sadistic man." Then her microphone was cut off and she was escorted immediately away. My heart fell when she said those words, and she later told me that she had come home to her family already dead. I expected something of the sort, having had the same thing happen to me. Since then, she has been more careful. Not to the same degree as me, though, as she has no one left that she loves.

None the less, I made up my mind that I would speak to her. I got that chance just before she left the training centre to go back home.

"Hey." I winked at her. She looked down, and I was just trying to cheer her up. "You were pretty bold back there, on the stage."

She looked me up and down disapprovingly. "As if you know anything about being bold."

For some reason I hadn't expected her to recognize me. But of course, she had. I didn't understand what she meant at first. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, you obviously don't have a problem with sucking up to the Capitol. Actually, you probably enjoy it. You're a disgrace, that's what you are."

I turned and walked away then. I wanted to say something cutting in return, but that is not in my nature. I walked away, I went to my room, and I cried. I didn't know why I had let her words cut me so deeply, but they had. I knew then, that I had made a mistake going to talk to her. Made a mistake thinking maybe we could be friends.

The next time I saw her was during her own Victory Tour. Annie and I, as well as the other victors from four, were expected to attend the feast for her. I didn't want to, but I did, of course. She looked quite stunning, really. She was in a mermaid type dress, to reflect the flavor of our district. Flecks of gold reflected back in her wide set brown eyes, and the flowing red of the dress matched her perfectly. I didn't care, though, and at the first opportunity I gave Annie some poor excuse and slipped outside to the beach. It was only a two minute walk from the Justice Building, where the feast was being held.

I sat on a rock and stared out at the sea, tears streaming down my face. No matter what the Capitol told me, I was still a broken boy. It hurt me deeply when even those I loved, or other victors, or those who should understand, didn't. Of course, Johanna didn't know then. Didn't know what she would have to face.

After a moment, I hear footsteps behind me, and I feel someone stop, almost touching me.

"I'm alright, Annie. I'll be inside in a minute."

A soft laugh. I turn around to see Johanna standing there. How she slipped out from the feast, I have no idea. She sits down beside me without waiting for an invitation. The mixture of sand and water smears her dress, but that is obviously the last thing on her mind.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry, Finnick. For what I said last time. I didn't know, I didn't understand the pressure us victors are under. I guess I can't blame you for your actions."

I turn on her then, eyes flaming with anger," He forces me into that, Johanna. Don't you understand. The Finnick on television, the Finnick the Capitol sees. That is not me." Tears begin flowing then, and I hate myself for my weakness.

She is silent for a moment. "I didn't know...I..." she stutters. Somehow stuttering does not seems characteristic of this girl beside me. "I'm sorry."

I nod, and look away. I want her to go. I accepted her apology, what more does she want from me. But she stays, sitting next to me. Finally I stand up. "You'd better get back to your party, little mermaid."

That's when I see her eyes. The streaks of tears down her cheeks. And she looks so different here, now, than the girl I saw on the stage with Caesar Flickerman.

"They killed my family." she says, softly.

I wrap my arms around her then, and she sobs softly. My heart breaks for her, and I realize that just as she was wrong to judge me, I was wrong to judge her. Perhaps we are more alike than I thought.

"I'm so sorry, Johanna."

She pushes me away, then. And stands up. Goes to the water and washes her face, free of the tears and also of the makeup. Her prep team won't be too happy with her.

"Do I look like I have been crying?" She questions.

"No." I respond."You look beautiful."

She smiles then, and walks away without a response. And I knew then that I had made a friend. A friend for life. Or death, which is probably going to come sooner.

Looking up at her now, I know that she, too, is reliving that moment. Our first meeting. I have never trusted anyone like I trust her. Never had anyone understand me, like she does. There is nothing else between us, we both understand that. There is no one for me, but Annie. And beside, even if we had feelings for each other, marrying outside your district is forbidden. Even for victors. Not that I would want to, anyway.

Her spunky personality takes hold again, then, and I almost laugh, even in this moment, at the change in her. She jumps up, takes my hand, and laughs like I have just said something funny. I understand what she is doing. People will be wondering why we look so solemn. I laugh too, but it doesn't come out as real as hers does. Being fake is about the last thing on my mind. Besides, I understand why we are not telling them, but don't the rest of the victors deserve to know as much as we do.

I stare at the clock. 6:34. If we leave now, we will have just enough time to get to the rook by Haymitch's prescribed 7:00. I take Johanna by the arm, and lead her out. Mags notices me leaving, and follows us. I notice a few other victors slip out at the same time. They probably have trains to catch. The games are over. Time to go home for most of them.

The President keeps me here as long as he can. I still have another four days before my train leaves the station.

Mags looks at Johanna and I, and then tilts her head. "Where are you going?" she asks.

I consider telling her, but decide to wait. We are both going back to Four, so I can tell her anytime.

"Just for a walk outdoors. Johanna has to leave tomorrow. I wanted to say goodbye."

Mags nods, not doubting our story, and leaves the lounge using the door that we were planning on going through. That door is the furthest from outside, and if we catch up with Mags, we will have to explain why we didn't go the quicker way. So, we make for a side door, and cut around to get to the training centre. We make very good time, but are still two minutes late. It doesn't matter, it's Haymitch. He's not the most punctual person himself.

When we reach the roof, I catch the sound of low voices. I am about the make my way in their direction, when Johanna prods me.

"Voices?"

I realize what she is getting at. There should be no _voices_. Haymitch asked the two of us to come. Nonetheless, I decide to check out who is talking before looking for Haymitch. What we find surprises both of us.

Haymitch stands talking to Mags, Beetee, Chaff, and Seeder. Mags eyes us as we join them, and says, "A walk, huh?"

I give her a guilty look, and then wink. She doesn't look all too happy that I lied to her, and the wink doesn't make up for it.

"Sorry," I mutter.

She nods, and then she winks back and smiles.

I love her.

I notice that Annie isn't here. Wiress either for that matter. It's probably a good thing, whatever Haymitch is going to tell us, they probably couldn't handle. At least I know that I can speak openly with Mags. It's pretty difficult to keep secrets from her, she knows me far too well.

Haymitch starts talking now, not in a conversation way, but in an informative way, and I know that this is it. The group that gets to know his plan. Or whatever it is that he is talking about.

"So, as I have already told each of you, the Games next year are going to involve the Victors."

We all nod, and I swallow back the lump that forms in my throat again.

"What you don't know is what we are planning on doing about this."

Again, we nod.

"Obviously, Haymitch. Get to the point, some of us want to get some sleep tonight." Johanna says.

Haymitch glares at her, but she doesn't back down. She isn't the type to do that. He begins to speak again, without addressing her comment.

"It is of the utmost importance that what I am about to say is kept secret. I am not supposed to know. The person who told me is not supposed to know. You all are not supposed to know. The Capitol will kill you if they find out that you know. We have decided that we can trust you six. The rest we are not sure about."

The victors gathered nod again. We will be secret. We all know too well the costs of disobedience.

Haymitch takes a deep breath.

"The new head gamemaker, Plutarch Heavensbee, came and spoke with me right after the Games ended. He told me that something has been in the working for a long time. They have been waiting for someone to come along and set it in motion. Katniss, and her handful of berries, have done just that. Finnick, Mags, Beetee, Johanna, Chaff, and Seeder. You are among the less than two hundred people in all of Panem who know this. Other than those who live there themselves."

He is making no sense. "Haymitch, what are you talking about?" I question.

He glares at me now, and raises a hand to silence me. "Give me a moment, Finnick. I'm explaining it as I go."

I wince at the rebuke. It was nothing, really, but I find it difficult to take after everything that has happened today.

He takes another breath. And another.

"Well, get to it, Haymitch." Johanna sounds angry now. I laugh a little, knowing that Haymitch is purposely teasing her.

"District Thirteen was not destroyed by the Capitol as we have all thought. The new Head Gamemaker is an undercover worker for them. They have been building up their defenses all these years in order to start a war against the Capitol. And they are ready. With the help of Plutarch, and some good planning, we are going to try to rescue you all from the arena, and in the chaos that will follow, we will start our rebellion."

We all stop breathing as we try to decipher what Haymitch has said. When it hits us, we still can't breath, because of the hope that has begun to build up within our chests. Hope where there has never been hope before.

"But there is one thing. We know we cannot rescue you all. We will do what we can. But we need you to promise us one thing. Katniss has become the symbol of the rebellion. Right now, uprisings have begun, people waving her mockingjay on flags and banners. We need her, if no one else, to get out of the arena alive. We will promise to rescue as many of you as we can, if you will promise to save Katniss. To protect her, even if it means giving up your own lives. We will be discussing this with some of the others, but we needed you six to agree, first."

Mags nods, and then smiles. "Lets take a vote. All in, raise their hands."

It seems a bit juvenile to me, but the others don't hesitate.

Mags is first to raise her hand. Then Seeder. Beetee. Chaff. Johanna hesitates. I have already heard her opinion on Katniss, and it's not exactly a good one. But she raises her hand.

I take a moment longer. I can't bear the thought of leaving Annie alone, but I have already accepted my death, anyway. This way, at least I have a chance. And I am not afraid of death.

I look into the eyes of the other victors. My allies. My friends. There is no way that I could hurt them.

So I raise my hand.


	11. Chapter 11

As I lift my hand, conflicting emotions assault me. This reminds me too much of a moment not to long ago, when the raising of my hand sent another to their death. It couldn't have been helped, really. But it haunt me each night.

We had been in the Capitol a few days. Annie and Nolan were finishing up their training and had their personal sessions with the Gamemakers today. Nolan, it turned out, was pretty good with a trident, as I had been in my own games. His father is one of the fisherman of District Four, and apparently he spent a lot of time spearing fish with his son. I had given Annie a few trident lessons during the short time of our friendship. Just for fun. I never thought she would actually use it.

She did recall what I taught her, though, so I told her to how the gamemakers her skill. Hopefully, between herself and Nolan, the gamemakers would decide to place a trident in the arena. They had allied together, anyway, so it wouldn't matter who got it.

At first I was wary to allow Annie to ally with the Career pack. She is one of them, of course, being from District Four. But she just isn't like them, and I had a feeling that that might get her a knife in the back.

After all, she had made a shining entrance during the Tribute Parade. Clad in a mermaid costume of shimmering green, she had stood apart from the rest. I thought I saw jealously reflected back at her. And jealousy in the arena is not good.

Besides, Annie told me that she didn't know if she could kill anyone anyway. I wasn't sure if I had convinced her otherwise, but I had decided that allying her with the Careers would at least keep her alive until I figured out what to do next. Rarely does a Career die within the first few days.

The two of them came back from their interview without any emotion. They said they had done well, but neither thought they had been exceptional. I hadn't really expected much more. Nonetheless, I hoped their tribute entrance would gain them some points with the Gamemakers.

That night, we sat around the television with their stylists to find out their scores. The boy from District One, Thorn, received an eleven, a prestigious honor as far as scores go. His partner, Thistle, was given a nine. The boy from two got a ten, his partner the same. The tributes from three scored low as usual. Then came Nolan, with a nine. He must be better than even he stated. Annie's face appeared on the screen, and I held my breath. Then they were flashing a seven under her picture. I closed my eyes. It wasn't awful, but it might be difficult to pick up sponsors with a score like that. I gave her hand a squeeze. Her entrance at the parade, however little the gamemakers may have cared, would definitely help when it comes to sponsors. And her interview tomorrow could seal the deal, if she plays it right.

She gives me a small smile, but she knows as well as I do what a seven means.

Nolan is excited, though, and goes to bed with a smile on his face. I take Annie into my arms, and she stays there until she falls asleep. I wish I could spend the night here, but I leave her in the hands of an attendant and once again climb on the bus, and give the bus driver a new set of directions.

-/\\-

The next day is a rush of activity. I mentor the tributes on their interview, and Mags tries to helps them with their presentation. Reaf, our version of District Twelve's Effie Trinket, is supposed to do that, but she came down with a cold the day before, and is sick in bed. Deathly ill, she told me.

Ya, right.

Nonetheless, we decide on strategies for the two of them. Nolan got a nine, so we decide on fierce. Ready to kill. Ready for anything.

Annie was easy. She got a seven, so there was no option of ferocity or arrogance. Besides, she couldn't play that up if she wanted to. We went with innocent. A genuinely nice person. That way, she doesn't have to play up someone that she is not. And the Capitol often falls for the gentle, innocent ones, as much as they do for the strong, fierce competitors.

It's a game after all. If everyone was strong and capable, there would be fun to it.

The evening comes quicker than I want it too. I wish that I could spend more time with Annie. Wrap her in my arms. Take her away somewhere.

Keep her safe.

But it is not in my power to do that.

The tributes line up behind the stage where their interview with Caesar will take place. Annie is shaking. She looks beautiful. They are still playing up the beautiful mermaid from the sea angle, but this time, she is draped in blue, and gems are embroidered on her dress, giving the appearance that she has just surfaced from the water.

She looks magical.

I place my hand on her shoulder and give her a small squeeze.

"You are going to go amazing. They are going to love you."

She gives me a smile, but I know it's fake.

Which, of course, is understandable.

"Just be yourself," I tell her.

The interview go so fast, and suddenly they are calling her name.

"Annie Cresta."

As she begins to walk towards the stairs to enter the stage, I slip something in her hand. She doesn't need to look, she knows what it is.

I see a genuine smile break out across her face as she walks across the stage.

It was a sugar cube.

She sits down beside Caesar, while the group cheers. Finally, he settles them down, and asks her what she has though of the Capitol so far.

"It's different. It's so big," she responds.

The crowd laughs.

"What is so different about it?" Caesar requests.

Annie smiles nervously,"Well, there are so many people. And, I'm used to having the ocean right outside my door."

Caesar smiles," Missing home, are you."

Annie nods, and I watch a tear fall down the side of her face. She is doing well, but I know that she is not acting.

The crowd sighs softly, and you can see them wiping away tears of their own.

"What do you miss most about home?" Caesar asks her.

Annie thinks for a moment," I miss the beach, watching the sunset. Swimming."

"Did you have someone to watch the sunset with?" Caesar questions. His way of asking if she has a boyfriend back home.

Annie shakes her head, like we discussed,"No, no one back home."

It's the truth. I'm here, not back in District Twelve. Caesar doesn't believe her though, and shakes his head.

"Come on. A mermaid like you must have some fisherman to love. Tell me."

Annie shakes her head,"No, really. There isn't anyone for me back home."

Caesar laughs and shakes his head at the audience, who laugh at his gesture. No one believes her, but Caesar doesn't press the issue.

"So, Annie, what did you think, when your name was drawn from the reaping bowl?"

She goes quiet, and I watch her lips purse lightly together,"I thought, that I had better get a good glimpse of the sea, because it is probably the last time I will ever see it."

I know she is telling the truth. The audience knows this, as well. Caesar knows it.

"Well, I am sure there are many people out here who want to make sure that you get back there."

The audience screams their approval, as the buzzer rings.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Annie Cresta, from District Four," Caesar cries, and kisses her hand.

She head off the stage. I reach out to embrace her as she passes, but she pushes my hand away and heads for the elevator. I follow her, and she turns on me.

"Leave me alone, Finnick. Go find someone else to love. I'm dead, anyway."

Her words break my heart. Possibly because I know that there is a degree of truth in them.

"Annie, I am going to do everything I can to bring you home. The audience loved you. I promise you will have sponsors. As many as everyone else. Maybe more." I don't know if this is the truth, but I have to believe that it is.

She ignores me, and steps onto the elevator. I follow her on, and we ride up to the Fourth Floor in silence.

When we step off, she makes a break for her room, but I grab her hand.

"Annie, don't shut me out. Please."

Her eyes are brimming with tears. I wipe one away that has escaped.

"You promise. You will try to bring me home?" She questions.

"Of course,"I respond," What did you think I would do?"

"Swear it." She responds.

I hesitate. To swear it is to condemn Nolan to death. I am doing that anyway, but to swear seems so final.

"I told you, I promise." I answer.

"Swear it, Finnick." she demands.

I place my left hand on her own, and raise my right. It is a symbol in our district. A promise made is a promise kept. And in that moment, as I raise my hand, I condemn Nolan to death. I condemn everyone to death. Except her. And it breaks my heart to do it. But somehow, I speak the words.

"I swear it."

* * *

A/N Hope you are enjoying! Thanks for reading, please review! :)


	12. Chapter 12

That night, I ignore the address given to me by Snow. This night might be my last with Annie, and I can not bear to lose it.

No matter what the consequences.

I take her into my arms, and we sit there, on the couch, like this, for the longest time. Neither of us willing to give up the other. Neither of us willing to let go. Finally, I whisper that she should try to get some sleep, but I know that it is useless. It is then that I remember something.

The roof.

I take her hand and lead her to the door I found when I myself was a tribute. At first I thought it was just a closet, but curiosity got the better of me, and I opened it to find a staircase. Of course, I followed it.

It led to the top of the training Centre. A roof surrounded by a force field. I learned about the force field the hard way. I wanted to sit on the ledge of the roof, look out over the Capitol. I wasn't planning on jumping. Or at least, I tell myself that. But I know that I wouldn't have. Suicide is as bad as murder, really. Murder of yourself.

So I reached up to hoist myself on the ledge, and instead found myself enveloped in electric current. It was one of the most painful things I have ever experienced, which is saying a lot when it comes to my childhood. But it took me away from the pain for a moment, for the thoughts of the day to come. The rooftop is like a sanctuary, in a way.

As we climb out onto it, hand in hand, she gives a small gasp. It is beautiful up here. Gardens, benches, wind chimes. Like a small sanctuary.

I lead her to a bench, and we sit, once again enveloped in each others arms. I stroke her hair and whisper soothing words to her, and let her cry. I don't cry. I surprise myself really, by the strength that I show her when she needs it most.

She falls asleep in my arms. I don't sleep. I just cradle her for hours, until the gray light of dawn begins to touch the horizon, and I know it is time to go. I wake her up, gently, and lead her back downstairs. An avox waits for her, and leads her back up to the roof. She could have jut stayed there, really. I forgot the hovercraft takes them from the roof.

Tears prick my eyes when she is taken from me. I give her hand a squeeze.

"Stay alive." I whisper," I need you."

Her eyes are free from tears, having cried herself out the night before.

"I will." she promises. And she grabs my left hand with her own and raises her right.

Then she is gone.

And I am left alone.

-/\\-

I sit there for a few minutes. I don't cry. I can't. Instead, I force myself up. I am her mentor. It is my job to keep her alive. And I can't do that without sponsors.

I am about to leave the room when I feel a touch on my shoulder. Mags.

"We're in this together, right?" she whispers.

I feel a sudden release of weight from my shoulders.

"Together." I respond. And we head out side by side.

We have barely reached the lower level when I see him. The President. I had forgotten that I had disobeyed him last night. Hopefully he has not found out the reason. I see now the stupidity of my actions, how silly it was for me to put Annie in an even more dangerous situation than she was already in. He comes towards me, and gestures to a small side room. Mags gives my hand a squeeze, and then leaves. She knows what to do. She can work on sponsors without me there.

The President sits down on a chair, and gestures to another in front of him. It feels odd to be this close, with nothing, not a table or a desk, separating the two of us. His face is filled with anger.

"You did not show up at your required destination last evening." His words are barely a whisper, but have the strength of a snake ready to strike.

"I'm sorry." My head lowers automatically.

"What were you thinking, Finnick?"

I don't respond.

He lashes out then, backhanded me across the face. For an older man, he has strength in him. But it is not so much the force as it is the meaning that makes me wince.

"You are a fool, Odair."

"I know," is all I can think to say. I am, after all.

"Why did you do it?"

So he doesn't know. Or he is playing with me. I play it safe.

"I needed a night. To think. To come up with a strategy," I respond.

"That is what Mags is here for. Do you think you are here to mentor tributes, Finnick? Of course not. You are here for the citizens of the Capitol. You are worthless to me as anything else. And do you know what happens when someone becomes worthless to me?"

I nod slowly. My breathing had become labored.

"We had a deal. You have broken that deal. That forces me to respond. Punishment for disobedience," Snow states calmly," Look at me."

I slowly raise my eyes to meet his. His hand reaches out and gently caresses my face. A touch so different from his last. And more painful.

"But we can not afford to ruin the body of Finnick Odair, now can we? It takes to long to heal. We need someone else. Something that will hurt him more, don't we."

So he does know. He must.

"Who do we have that Finnick Odair loves? Hmmm?" His voice sickens me.

Then he stands up," I know the truth, Finnick. But a threat is as good as an action. Don't fail me."

Then he is gone.

And I know what he meant. She will enter the arena in a few hours. Then, all they must do is place her in a situation where her death is unavoidable. No one will no. No one will care.

No one except me.

I know now that I have no choice. I love Annie. It is a dangerous love, and I was a fool in how I played it out. But I love her, and Snow knows it. He has also promised, in his own way, not to hurt her if I do what I am told from now on. But he threatened to kill her if I fail.

I know that I can not fail.

I leave the room and find Mags standing there. So she didn't go to begin conversations with sponsors after all. Somehow I am thankful. I need to be there. To beg, plead if need be. To keep Annie alive.

Mags asks no questions. But I tell her anyway.

"I didn't go last night. He knows the truth."

Mags quick intake of breath confirms my suspicions. She glares at me," What were you thinking, Finnick?"

"I wasn't," I respond," But I don't need a lecture right now, Mags. A personal death threat to Annie from Snow is enough to take in."

She doesn't drop her gaze, or apologize,"You want to keep her alive, but then you go and do something stupid like that. She will never be safe, now, Finnick. And you just made it ten thousand times harder to get her out of there alive."

"I said I don't need a lecture Mags."

"I know what you said. But there are times when..."

"Shut UP, Mags." I know she is right. I know I was wrong. And I know responding to her like that is awful. But I can't help it.

Her eyes reflect hurt, but she doesn't say anything else, and we walk in silence. I feel awful already, and now guilt for hurting her is placed on top of my shoulders as well. How many people will I injure with my lack of sense?

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." My voice is barely above a whisper when I speak the words, but I know she heard me. And if I speak anymore, or any louder, I am certain I will start to cry. And I can't do that now. A mentor in tears is a mentor who is weak, who has given up hope. A Finnick Odair in tears is even worse. No one will sponsor her if I can't control my emotions.

And sponsors are just about her only hope now.

-/\\-

Mags and I spend the rest of the morning speaking with sponsors, and are able to seal a deal with a few. They seem very interested in helping her, even if she only got a seven in training. By the time we pile into our assigned room to watch the beginning of the Games, I am feeling hopeful.

And hope, where there was once none, is a wonderful thing.

We sit down near the front of the theatre as they play back final interviews and look back at the last few days. I am happy to see that Annie gets more than her fair share of screen time. Trying to get the mermaid back to the sea has become almost a theme for the Games. Then, suddenly, we are in the arena. Not in it, of course, but watching it. I survey the scene quickly.

24 metal plates for the tributes to stand on. The rest of the arena seems divided into a few sections. They do this sometimes, rather than having just one playing field. There is a small wooded forest, and then beside that a meadow. Then there is a large lake, with some kind of rock in the middle. Next to that there is a plain with cactus and tumbleweeds, and beside that a frozen wasteland. In the back ground is one large peak. A mountain, perhaps, or a volcano. There may be other sectors that the camera is not showing, or that I can't see. But what the audience is shown will keep them enthralled.

This is going to be a Games to remember.

After a few minutes of showing off the arena, the tops of the metal plates open, and for a moment nothing happens. Then the heads, torsos, legs, and feet of the tributes appear, as they are lifted up from an underground fortress below. The sixty second countdown begins.

I search for Annie, and find her on a plate in the middle of the boy from nine and the girl from two. She is facing the lake and the mountain, with the desert and ice behind her. They want the mermaid facing the water.

Her face is hard to read, which is not the best, but better than fear. No sponsor wants to see fear, especially not in this first moment. I countdown softly with the clock. 10 seconds, 9, 8, 7...

I see her tense herself and move into position. I realize I have not even surveyed the Cornucopia yet, and do a quick once over.

There is nothing in between the horn and the tributes. All the goods are piled in a small circle around it. They want to draw them in, rather than have them grab something and take off.

I want to tell Annie to run, but we already discussed her strategy. She is with the Careers. She is to make for a trident, or whatever weapon is closest to her. The other tributes will probably avoid her, or even better, avoid the Cornucopia altogether, and leave the goods for the Careers.

The gong rings, and she runs toward the horn. Other close in and reach it before her. The boy from eleven, a tall, yet skinny kid, grabs a knife and tosses it at her. She spins away and runs in the other direction. Thorn, the boy from one, sneaks up behind him with a sword and finishes him off. It is difficult to watch. Annie has found her way to the top of the horn now, climbing over the goods, and has gotten her hands on a black trident near the top. Her face contorts when she touches it, as though she is not sure what to do.

But she picks it up and tests it in her hands. That is a good sign, at least.

The blood bath is in full force below her, but she waits at the top, not wanting to get involved. No one wants to climb up to get her and risk their own demise.

The boy from twelve foolishly entered the fight, trying to get his hands on a back pack. He had reached it, and was on his way out, when Thistle's knife took him in the back. She winced, strange for a Career, and turned back to the fight.

You have to do what you have to do. There can only be one winner. But I understand her entirely. It broke my heart, each kill. I almost lost it, one time. That was when I got my trident, and the games were basically over.

The girls from twelve and eleven, both from ten, the girl from nine, and both from eight took off immediately, without attempting the Cornucopia. The two from seven went in together. The boy was killed while reaching for a loaf of bread. The girl made it out with a backpack and a knife. The two from six were killed before they made it to the horn. The boy from five got his hands on a bow, to backpacks, and a sleeping bag, and made it out unharmed. The girl foolishly tried to climb the horn as well, and was killed by Nolan. I remember him then, for the first time. He is holding another trident, a blue one, and has a knife in his other hand. The fighting stops now, and I survey the scene.

The six Careers are all alive. Thorn, Thistle, Drum, Blossom, Nolan, and Annie. The boy from three is lying dead on the ground, having been taken down while the cameras were elsewhere.

Suddenly, from around the Cornucopia, the girl from three lunges at the Careers. It is a stupid move, and the crowd in the theatre gasps. But she is a fighter this one. She has a long knife in her right hand, and an axe in her left. The surprise attack was foolish, but she takes down Drum, the boy from 2, before they have time to reestablish themselves. Blossom, his district partner, stands stunned for a moment, before taking the girl on herself. She gets a knife in the shoulder, and steps back, stunned. I don't even know the girl from three's name, but she is obviously a force to be reckoned with. Blossom pulls the knife from her shoulder, and I see that Nolan has darted around the Horn to take the girl from three from the other side. But Thorn gets there first, sinking a knife into her temple. She crumples to the ground, but her death is not unsung. Anyone who kills a Career will be remembered.

Annie slides down the side of the Horn now, and helps Blossom bind her shoulder. Thorn glares at her, aggravated that she just stood there and didn't help. She gives him an innocent smile, and holds up the trident.

"I was just getting this. After that, I didn't want to get in the way. You had it all under control."

This pacify's him. She's smart, that girl.

I take a moment to appraise them now. Thorn is tough and strong, largely built. He is capable with a knife and sword, and possibly a bow, as he has a sheaf strapped over his shoulder, with one attached. Thistle is small, but accurate with a knife. Blossom I am not sure about. Nolan is capable, but I know he will not turn on Annie without a reason. They are all wearing the same outfit, though the styles vary slightly between the males and females. The boys wear loose fitting black pants, black leather boots, and a black jacket that falls to their waist. The girls are clad in tight black pants, almost like leggings, black leather boots, and jackets that fall to a few inches above their knees. The only differences are in the hair styles. Thistle's black hair is back in a tight bun. Blossom's blond curls fall softly over her shoulders, seemingly unaffected by the recent battle. Annie's is in two braids down the sides of her head.

She looks beautiful.

I catch myself off guard. I should be worrying about keeping her alive, not what she looks like.

Thorn takes charge immediately, and the five Careers begin preparing a camp area. They piles their supplies inside the Cornucopia, and wrap some type of netting along the entrance. Then they enter the woods, and the camera switches to another fight between the tributes from six, and the boy from nine. I don't stay to watch. I have work to do.

The real Game has just begun.


	13. Chapter 13

I am brought back to the present by Haymitch's words.

"So, it is decided. I will try to keep you all updated as much as I can. Plutarch will make sure they have the wire you need, Beetee."

I shake my head in confusion. "What does a wire have to do with anything, Haymitch. How can we get out of the arena with a wire?"

Mags laughs, but Haymitch glares at me," Weren't you listening to anything that I just said?"

I shake my head.

"Nope."

Haymitch roles his eyes, and Johanna brings me up to speed.

"Plutarch has given us some information about the arena. There will be some source of electricity that we will need to channel, and reflect into a chink in the force field. The wire is necessary for us to be able to do that."

I nod. I don't really understand the whole plan, but if we have a head gamemaker on our side, I am sure it will work.

"Ok."

"Listen up from now on," Haymitch exclaims," We don't have time to go repeating everything."

I roll my eyes. Only in this group can I be myself without worrying about getting hurt. "Haymitch, wasn't there some issue at this year's reaping where you missed an entire speech? And then embarrassed the District when you did show up?" I wink at him, and he scowls. The other victors laugh.

Except Mags. She doesn't exactly approve of making fun at another's expense, no matter the circumstance. She gives me a disapproving glance, but I ignore it. She isn't my mother, after all.

Haymitch clears his throat, and we all quiet down. If we didn't have such limited time, we would have ignored him too, but our time here is coming quickly to an end.

"So, you all understand the plan then? Just remember, no one else knows. We can not trust anyone else."

Mags cuts in then," What about your tributes? Are Katniss and Peeta going to be let in on the plan?"

Haymitch shakes his head,"No. They still have to large a part to play, and I do not want to give anything away by telling them. Katniss is not the best actor, and she needs to act naturally to pull this off. And telling Peeta but not Katniss would be foolish."

Johanna immediately picks up on the problem with this," But how are we going to get her to ally with us? She doesn't seem like the most trusting type. She'd probably shoot us in the back from fear that we would do the same to her."

Haymitch nods. "I know. We have struggled with that problem ourselves. Beetee and Wiress she will want as allies. That is how she is. Johanna, she would probably kill you on sight, unless she had reason not to. Same with you, Finnick. But she will want Mags as an ally. Peeta will go along with whoever she wants. Forcing both Finnick and Johanna on her at once could very well be disastrous. We need to play this right. So we came up with what we think could be a solution. She will learn quickly that Finnick and Mags are a team. Neither of you will leave the other behind. So, if we can find a way, and I don't know how yet, but if we can, to get her to accept Finnick, knowing that she gets Mags as well, then we can give them a few days to trust each other, and then bring Johanna into it. Johanna will stay with Beetee and Wiress, until we send her a sign that it is time to meet up with the others. Once Katniss has decided to trust Finnick, she will have to trust Johanna, especially if she shows up with Beetee and Wiress in tow. And like I said, Peeta will follow whatever Katniss wants. Or so I presume."

His plan is a little difficult to follow, but I get the main idea. Basically, I have to play nice and get Katniss to like me, however I decide to do that. Then I find some way to get her to ally with me, without killing me. And I am not allowed to kill her, no matter what.

"Seems like I get the worst end of that plan, Haymitch. She makes one snap decision and I'm dead," I comment.

"Well, then, Finnick, you will have to do what the President wants. Play nice. Be someone she will like. It's what you are supposed to do, anyway."

Haymitch's words sting. I know he didn't mean for them to injure me, but they have, and deeply. Play nice. Be someone she will like. So, I am not nice, and not likable, unless I am acting? Is that it. I feel a gentle squeeze on my shoulder, and find that Mags has come up behind me. She understands.

"Fine, Haymitch. I'll do what you want. But I can't promise that I won't disable her in some way if she tries to kill me. I'll keep her alive, though."

I can tell Haymitch isn't pleased with my response, but he knows he can't ask me for more than that. Besides, his careless comment didn't place him in my book of favorites at the moment.

"Is that it?" Johanna questions.

Haymitch nods, not taking his eyes off of me. "Ya, you can go. I want to talk to Finnick here, for a moment."

I want to lower my eyes from his, but I don't. I stare into them. I feel Mags lift her hand from my shoulder, and I want to ask her to stay, but I can't. I'm not a boy anymore.

When everyone has left, Haymitch finally releases my gaze for a moment. Then cuts to the heart of the issue.

"How's Annie?"

I realize immediately what he is saying. What he is trying to do.

"She's fine."

Haymitch nods," And do you want her to stay that way?"

My hands clench into fists. "What do you think?"

"I think she is in a heap of danger if you keep up this attitude, Finnick. Snow's not one to play nice. What do you think would happen if you, say, disabled Katniss and then let her live? That would not be playing the Games properly. Snow would suspect something. We would lose what may be our only chance. If you suddenly act all friendly towards Katniss, we would lose our chance, because Snow would notice the difference in you. If you kill Katniss, we lose our chance for obvious reasons. And if we lose our chance, we lose what may be the only opportunity we will ever have to free Panem. Are you so selfish that you can't see this? Mags has volunteered to take Annie's place, or the place of whoever's name is called. Do you think she has a large chance of surviving to see the end of the Games. No. You do, Finnick. If you play your part correctly. But don't let your desire to preserve your own life ruin the chance to save the lives of thousands."

He stops then, and stares at me, waiting for a response.

It is not fair. His accusation. I have been through far more in my life than he has. And where will he be? Not in the arena, but watching safely from afar. He has no right to talk to me like this. And yet, something within me tells me that he has every right. That I have been selfish in my thoughts. That my desire for a life with Annie has clouded my courage. That I have slowly begun to become who Snow wants me to be, rather than just playing the part.

"You're right, Haymitch. I'm sorry. I've been under a lot of stress lately. This isn't the real me. I hope you know that."

Haymitch nods. He does know.

"I just wanted to help you find yourself again," he tells me,"You are a complex piece in this game, Finnick. But you are truly good at heart, and I know that you would give you life for Annie or for Panem in an instant. I ask you now to give your life, if need be, not for an assured ending, or a certain defeat. But I ask you to give your life for hope."

I smile softly,"For hope, Haymitch? It has been long since we have had any hope. But if even a sliver has shown itself, then I will do whatever it takes to bring it to pass."

Haymitch nods," I knew you would." Then he stands up.

"The ceremony for the victors is tomorrow, and then there are interviews and other appearances to complete. Katniss must play her role perfectly. The difficulty is that she does not know what her role is."

I nod. "I am staying a few days longer, as well."

"Snow?" Haymitch questions.

I nod. My stomach regains the sick feeling that I carry with me most days. "Perhaps it would be better if I died. Annie would not be stuck with Snow's sex symbol as a husband," I say bitterly. I am close to tears again.

Haymitch shakes his head,"You are so much more than that, Finnick."

I meet his eyes again. "No, Haymitch. I'm not. I don't even know who I am anymore. It is so difficult to play a role that I am hated for. Sometimes I wish I had died in that arena. The concept of a victor is just a sick twist of the Capitol, because we are anything but victorious. Sometimes I wish I was dead, and the rest of us too. It would be better. There is no hope for us."

Haymitch places both his hands on my shoulders, and I slowly raise my head to meet his eyes.

"There is always hope."


	14. Chapter 14

That night, for some reason, there is no note from Snow. No address. I think that maybe Haymitch is right. About the hope thing.

I go to find Mags, which is harder than I would have expected. She is not in her room, or the victors lounge. Finally, Woof, another victor, tells me that he saw her leave to go outside, and I find her sitting on a bench in the middle of a small park, looking at the sky.

She doesn't move when I sit down beside her. And when she speaks, her voice is soft. Gentle.

"No place to go tonight, Finnick?"

"No." I respond," Lucky me."

She turns then, and eyes me. It is the same look that she gave me that night, almost ten years ago now, before my first games. That night when she convinced me that I could win, that I could live.

I never understood why she liked me. She was one of the only people, really.

"Are you okay, Finnick?"

I want to say yes. To assure her that I am. That I will be fine. That I don't need her help.

But I do.

And we know each other too well. I couldn't keep a secret from Mags if I wanted to.

"No." I respond.

She turns her head back up to the stars, and it is a moment before she speaks again.

"You see that star, Finnick. The one right above us. To the left of the North Star. The one that seems almost pink."

I nod. I don't know what she is getting at, but I do see the star.

"That star, Finnick, looks the same here or in District Four, or anywhere in Panem. Right?"

"Right."

"Now, here in the Capitol, they are celebrating the end of another very successful Hunger Games. See the lights surrounding the city. As the lights change color, so does the star. It is reflecting back what light it is given."

"Yes." I answer.

"But, does that change what it is, Finnick? If it reflects back a different color light, or even a different shape, does that change the fact that it is a star? Does that change what it is?"

"No," I tell her," Of course not."

"And, if people look it, and think that it is strange, because it is a different color, or that perhaps it is something other than a star, and don't like it because of this, does that change it?"

"No."

"So it is with you, Finnick."

I wait for her to explain, but she doesn't. So it is with me?

And then I understand.

I am Finnick Odair. I am the victor of the 65th Hunger Games. I love Annie Cresta. Here, in the Capitol, they have transformed me into something that I am not. Here I am a victor, yet no victorious. Here I am a lover, but not of Annie. Here I am Finnick Odair, but Finnick Odair is not me.

What Mags is trying to tell me is that no matter what Snow forces upon me, no matter what I must do here, no matter what people think of me, whether here or back home, that does not change who I am.

Only I have the power to change who I am.

"Thanks, Mags. I needed that."

She smiles at me, now. And reaches up to stroke my forehead and tuck a small tuft of hair back behind my ear.

"Don't you ever forget it, Finnick."

"I won't."

"No matter what other people tell you. You are special. There is something different about you Finnick. You are far more than who they make you out to be," she tells me.

I think about this for a moment.

"And why do you like me, Mags. Why are you different from the others?"

Her eyes lighten a bit, and she laughs.

"I knew you before they got a hold of you. I knew the truth, who you really were. And I have taken the time to make sure that that part of you will never leave. Not really. No one who knows you, Finnick, really knows you, can help but to like you."

"And even people who don't know you, Mags, still like you. How did you do it, anyway? Retain who you are. Be unchanged."

Mags considers the question for a moment.

"I had people in my life who loved me, no matter what, and who never gave up on me. Even when I came back. You didn't have that. Your father..." she cuts herself off.

I smile, and reach out sweep her own hair behind her ear.

"I had you. I don't know what I would have done without you. You're one of the only people who actually likes me."

She laughs at that, but she knows as well as I do that it is true. Her and Annie. They are about all that I have. Some of the other victors, too, but even some of them do not know the truth, and the ones that do still act strangely around me. Most of them, anyway.

"Never give up hope, Finnick. Those who have given up on hope, have none. Not really. I love you."

I reach out and embrace her. She means more to me than almost anything. Other than Annie. But they are pretty much on the same level.

When I release her, she kisses me lightly on the forehead.

"I still don't know what I would do without you, Mags."

Mags expression grows grim, now.

"Well, you may have to learn to live without me. You can't always protect me, you know. We made a promise."

And I know she is right. We did. Next year, I have a new responsibility. But I can not imagine leaving her behind.

I couldn't.

"Remember Mags," I chide gently," Those without hope, have none."

I wink at her, and she smiles.

I take her hand then, and we stare at the sky. Watching the colors flash by.

Watching the lights. Watching the stars.


	15. Chapter 15

That night, Annie fills my dreams.

The first night with the Careers was horrible for her. They hunted all night, killing three more tributes. The girls from 10 and 11 and the boy from 8. It was all Annie could do not to cover her eyes as they were brutally stabbed and murdered. Thorn and Thistle high fived each other, seeming almost to enjoy it, but really, I felt a heaviness on the entire group.

Nolan stood back with Annie, not killing, not speaking. One time, he took her hand and held it, and she let him. I almost cried, but I knew it was unfair of me. I knew I should be glad that she had someone to comfort her, even in the arena. Besides, any show of affection makes the crowds go wild, and Annie and Nolan were pulling in the sponsors.

Snow continued to call me away every night, but the Games were so exciting, that almost every person had them on, so I barely missed a minute, and I barely slept.

Nolan and Annie's relationship grew as the days went on. My heart broke as I realized what was happening. The two were falling in love. And I couldn't stop it.

I had thought that I had Annie wrapped around my finger. I loved her with all my heart, and I thought she felt the same way about me. But Nolan can give her something I never could. Purity. A realness, that can only come from an innocent heart. I know Annie longed for this. I should have been glad that she was happy, but really, I loathed Nolan.

And then, a week and a half into the Games, it happened.

Careers aren't invincible, of course, but I had forgotten that. The five of them who had survived the Cornucopia had remained uninjured and I had forgotten that they even could be hurt.

But the girl from Seven had not.

She leapt out of the trees while the Careers were passing and with an axe she had picked up somewhere, she made quick work of Nolan.

Beheaded him.

She killed Blossom as well, before the Careers had time to react. Then Thistle finished her off with a knife to the heart.

Annie stared at Nolan's limp form on the ground and backed up. There were tears in her eyes, but not only hers. I saw tears in Thistle's eyes as well, which surprised me.

"I'm so sorry, Annie." she whispered. Then she stepped forward to comfort her.

But Annie jerked away, and broke into the forest. She ran from the Careers and from everyone. She was weaponless, defenseless.

She was broken.

I wake with a cold sweat running down my neck. My eyes are watering. I reach over to gently prod the figure on the other side of the bed, to make sure I did not wake them, when I remember that I am in my own bed, in the training center. I was speaking with Mags last night. No address.

And Annie is safe, I remind myself. She survived. She is safe.

But I wonder if that is really true, and suddenly the cold reality seeps down spine. If we carry out our plan in the arena next year, it will not matter whether or not I survive. It will not matter whether or not Annie enters the arena. She will die either way.

Snow will kill her.

If I die, perhaps he will allow her to remain in District Four, safe. But if I escape from the arena, he will waste no time in kidnapping her. Torturing her. Perhaps doing to her what he did to me.

And I can not bear the thought. It breaks my heart and withers my resolve.

But I made a promise. And Finnick Odair never breaks a promise.

But I feel a tear leave my eye and slip down my cheek, wetting my face, and I wonder if I made the right decision.

And somehow, in this moment of terror, I fall back to sleep.

(/]]]]]]]:::::::{{{{{{{}}}}}}}:::::::[[[[[[[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\)

When I wake up, the sun is shining brightly through the window, and without looking at the clock on the bedside table, I judge it to be about 11:00. A glance at the clock proves me pretty near correct. 10:58 is where the hands point.

I shower quickly and pull on a comfortable outfit that I brought with me from home. I have no shortage of elaborate Capitol outfits, and sometimes I where them, but...Then I remember Snow's instructions. That I must become the role. That he will hurt Annie, if I fail.

Well, he didn't actually say that. But it was implied.

Nonetheless, I change my outfit again, exchanging my simple brown fishing outfit for an elaborate Capitol costume. The victor's ceremony is tonight, and tomorrow are the interviews. I will be expected to be at both, and to be 'myself'. The Finnick Odair that I have come to hate.

I leave clothed in a pair of midnight blue pants, and a matching silver top that is almost see through. I actually combed back my hair for once, rather than allowing it to run wild as I usually do.

Snow will be impressed.

I walk through the city streets, trying to enjoy the beautiful sunshine that the day brings, but my heart isn't in it. And then I see her. And I can't get away, because she is almost immediately upon me. And I try to swallow, to forget, but the look on her face does not allow it.

"Ah, the victorious Finnick Odair, is it?"

I don't respond.

She slaps me across the face. I want to react. To hit her back. But I can't, and I can't...

"Answer me. I have a direct line to the President, you know."

I am swallowing back both tears and memories when I answer,"Yes, I understand that."

She glares at me.

I try to speak, I really do, but she is the one person whose very presence can turn me into an Avox. So, instead, I wrap my arm around her waist and give her one of my most winning smiles, as best as I can fake it. I know what will happen if I don't play the role, here and now. Snow probably put me in this situation on purpose, though I don't know how, really.

"Well, I'm glad to see that you are back to your normal self," Her voice is cold.

I manage to find my voice,"Of course," I say, in the most seductive tone I can manage,"Nothing less for you."

Her voice is like a snakes, reminding me of the Presidents," Well, aren't you lucky then. Guess who's hosting you tonight?"

My heart sinks into my chest. I want to run, to hide. Anything.

"Yes, lucky." Are the only words my voice will form.

Her eyes are like black holes, but twinkling with a sickness that can only have come from the grave itself. "See you tonight, Finnick."

As she walks away, it is all I can do to once again keep myself from drowning. And I know I will be unable to play my so called role tonight. It will be impossible. Snow has done this as a test, and somehow I am sure that I will fail. The memories associated with her still make me sick.

She was the first person Snow ever sold me to. I had only just recently turned sixteen. Mags rode the bus with me that day, and gave my hand a squeeze when I got off. She knew the truth.

Well, not all of it.

I entered the house and was astonished once again by how luxurious the houses of the Capitol residents are. And then she was there. She was 42 at the time, and one of the most prominent woman in the country. I can not understand why.

She led me to her room, as it was already late.

Well, I was late. Not by much, only a minute or two. The bus had a technical problem and needed to be fixed.

But apparently that was no excuse for her.

She tied my hands to a post in her room, and called for one of her man servants. He brought her a leather belt, almost the exact copy of the one my father had used. And I began to shake.

She told me it was for my own good. That being young as I was, I needed to learn the importance of being on time. And she was strong, too. She beat me until I was unconscious, and then woke me and started again.

When she tired of this, she spent the rest of the evening grounding into me how stupid and foolish I was, and how I would never be free. How no one could love me.

I still bear the scars from that night. And not just the physical ones.

I realize that I am shaking. I am 23 now, and I tell myself that tonight will be different. That I was young.

But I have heard that Capitol people have beaten their man servants to death in the past, and how much different am I, really?

I need to see Annie, and yet I know that I can't. I have never told her about that night, and it would break her heart. Mags doesn't know either. She came to get me the next morning, for mentoring. I could barely stand up, but I was somehow able to fool her, to tell her everything was alright. I wonder, though, if she was really just playing along for my sake, because I had never been able to fool her before, and never have since.

But I know who I really need to talk to.

Johanna.

I remember her being worried about her train leaving, though, and I wonder if she is still here. I hurry back to the training center, and check her room. When she is not there, I literally run to the victor's lounge, and find her sitting in the corner, in the same seat we were in yesterday.

"Hey," she says when I approach.

"Hey," I give her a small smile,"What happened to your train?"

"It got delayed. All the victor's did. Apparently Snow wants us all here for the ceremony tonight."

I swallow and sit down across from her. There are only a few other victors in the lounge, and they are all over playing some card game at the other end of the room. Chaff, Brutus, and Woof I think.

A strange trio.

"Is something wrong?" Johanna asks," You look like you've seen a ghost."

I nod,"I have." Tears well in my eyes again.

Johanna nods,"Want to talk about it?"

Johanna can be two completely different people. On one hand she is the most immodest, rudest, most aggravating person I have ever met. Honestly, we can be so unalike, I sometimes wonder how we ever became friends. But then she switches into the other person. The caring, kind, gentle one, and I know exactly how we are friends. How two so different people can be in one person, though, seems crazy to me.

Nonetheless, I consider her question. I don't really, but it might do me some good. Anyways, she is the only one I ever entrusted with the knowledge of what happened that night.

"Shian," I tell her, which is the name of the Capitol woman,"I am going to her house tonight, I guess."

Johanna's eyes flash with anger,"That's sick."

I nod. Once again my voice has left me.

Johanna clenches her eyes shut,"I don't know how you can remain so...so...well, you know. With this all the time."

I find my voice,"No, what?"

She stares at me,"So...Well, I don't know. I don't know how you bear it."

I stare at her in disbelief,"I don't Johanna, obviously I don't. I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there's no relief in waking."

A tear snakes its way down my face.

Johanna stands up and comes over to me, wrapping her arms around me, and comforting me in the way only she can. I notice that there are small tears running down her own face.

"Make them pay, Finnick. I don't know how. Maybe in the arena. But whatever you do, make them pay."

I laugh then, which is strange, because it seems like the strangest place to inject laughter into the conversation, but I can't help it. Because that is what we are doing, isn't it. Making them pay.

And if we can pull it off, they will never stop paying.

Ever.

And the thought fuels me.

Johanna rolls her eyes, by now used to the sudden swing of my emotions. How I can be broken one minute, and almost myself the next.

"Your outfit is ridiculous, you know." She tells me.

And I just laugh harder. Because I realize something now. I was told it twice the night before, but I didn't really believe it. Now I do.

I realize that we do have hope. That even if we all die fighting for it, Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire, has given us something. She has given use something that no one else has, and with it, we may be able to light the fire of rebellion and free ourselves.

She has given us a spark.


	16. Chapter 16

I want to spend the rest of the day here, with Johanna, because somehow when I am with her, life seems so much simpler. Her rebellious spirit and attitude has always been just what I need to cheer me up. But, I haven't seen Annie in almost two days, and I doubt that she is very happy with me. She will be even less so if she finds out I spent the day here instead of with her. So, I tell Johanna I have to go, and she doesn't question it.

Like I said, she pretty much understands me better than anyone.

It takes me a while to track down Annie. She apparently hasn't been seen much by anyone in the past few days. Finally I spot Mags, who informs me that she was chatting with Annie just this morning, and she was planning on taking a walk down by the beach.

It isn't really a beach, of course. It's just a lake, and the Capitol has imported some sand and trees and seashells for the amusement of it's inhabitants. But, nonetheless, for Annie and I, it has always been a special place. A piece of home, really.

I consider walking, but take the bus instead, because it would take me close to an hour to walk there, and Annie may have left by that time. The bus ride takes only about ten minutes, with a few stops to let people on and off. When I get off, I go to pay and realize it is the same bus driver I had a few days before. I was to lost in thought to notice when I got on. He waves away my money, and when I depart the bus I realize that I was right. He has had someone paint a large mural of my face and trident on his bus. No wonder it is far busier than it was a few days ago. Everyone wants to ride on a bus with my face painted on the side.

I find Annie sitting right at the waters edge. The beach is almost empty, which is surprising, due to the heat of the day. The I remember that is only just after 12, and after such an exciting Hunger Games, the majority of the Capitol's residents are probably still sound asleep. Which is fine by me.

Annie either doesn't notice me approach or doesn't acknowledge that she does. She is sitting so that only her toes and the front of her foot are being gently lapped by the water. It is quite calm this morning, with few waves.

I sit down beside her, but she still does not acknowledge my presence.

"Hey." I finally venture, confused as to her lack of talk.

She doesn't reply.

"I'm sorry I haven't seen you much lately." I apologize, hoping to sooth whatever is wrong.

"Haven't seen me much, or haven't even bothered to check on me?" She questions.

There is a bitterness in her tone that is so unlike her usual self that I can not speak myself for a moment. And when I do, my voice is a bit to harsh.

"Well, I'm sorry, okay? But you can't exactly blame me. I haven't been having the time of my life myself."

She looks at me then, for the first time,"Really? Mags seemed to think opposite when I saw her this morning. She said you hung around the lounge yesterday and spent a lot of time with Johanna. Don't tell me you didn't have any time for me."

I swallow. "Annie, you don't underst..."

She cuts me off," Don't tell me I don't understand. I do. I understand that you'd rather spend time with Johanna Mason and Haymitch Abernathy than you would with me. And if that's what you want to do with your time, then fine."

I am angry now,"Don't talk to me like that. You don't know what I go through every day. Every hour, every second of every day."

"I was a victor too, Finnick," she responds.

"But Snow hasn't treated your victory in the same way he has mine,"I counter.

She glares at me,"Well, maybe there's a reason. Maybe he knows that you don't mind it all to much."

This knocks the air out of my lungs, as much as any punch in the chest or fall could do. She realizes she has gone to far, and immediately counters.

"I'm sorry, Finn. I didn't mean that. I was just mad."

"Sure, Annie." I respond. I stand up,"I'll see you later."

I think she calls my name, tells me to come back. But I don't. Instead, I go back to my room in the training centre and sob until I have no more tears left. Because, when the person you love most in the world turns against you, no matter how meaningless their words were, you have nothing.

I hear a knock on my door about an hour later. I know who it is, though, so I don't bother getting up. But she comes in anyway, and I regret my forgetfulness in locking the door.

Annie sits on the foot of my bed, and I notice that there are tears in her own eyes. I am certain that my entire face is red, and I can feel the puffiness around my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Finn. I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it. Really I didn't."

I don't look at her. But I realize something then. She has been doing so much better. Her panic attacks have grown less and less, and she has become almost her old self. I realize how quickly this will change when she realizes I am going back into the arena.

"Finnick, please," her voice cuts into my thoughts,"Please don't shut me out." She is begging now, and seems almost ready to cry again herself. "I want to help you, really."

"Well," I answer now," Fine job you did of that."

"I said I was sorry. I am. I didn't mean it, Finnick. I was just mad."

"Sure." I turn and stare directly into her eyes, stunned by how much they look like little gems floating in an ocean of blue. An ocean of tears. "Sometimes an apology doesn't fix everything, Annie."

But I know I am being unfair. I know I was wrong too, that I should have spent time with her. That she had a right to be angry, and that if I withhold forgiveness now I am being no better than her. I know how easy it is to speak a quick word in a moment of anger.

Her voice is almost a whisper now," I am so sorry Finn. Please forgive me. I can't live without you. I can't survive."

A pain hits me in the chest as I realize that she may have to learn to do so in only a years time. And I realize that it is stupid to waste even one moment being angry with her, when it is very possible that I will lose her and she will lose me very soon.

"I forgive you, Annie. I'm so sorry." I whisper,"Come here."

I hold out my arms to her, and she falls into them. We sit like that for a long time, not moving. Her head against my shoulder, my arms wrapper around her.

Then she raises her head, and her eyes are once again dry of tears.

"Do you have an address tonight?" she questions.

I nod slowly, pain welling up in my chest again, my heart beating fast.

She reaches up and gently brushes her hand against my face.

"Always know that I love you, Finnick. I couldn't live without you. You are everything in the world to me. Everything."

"I know." I tell her," And you are the only person in the world that I could ever love, Annie. You hold my heart and I will never let you go."

It's a lie, really, considering the circumstances. But right here, right now, it is the most truthful statement in the world.

"You have to talk to her." Annie tells me.

I have no idea what she is talking about.

"What?" I question.

"Katniss." Annie replies,"You know as well as I do that Snow won't be pleased with what she did. I'm sure she'd appreciate a warning."

I swallow hard, feeling awful now for keeping secrets from Annie. Honestly, I think talking to Katniss right now, or showing her friendship in any way would be the most foolish thing I could do.

"I don't think that would help the situation." I respond softly, not meeting her eyes, because I feel as though she would look into me and read my intentions and thoughts.

"Why not?" She questions, her voice betraying her confusion.

"She has a mentor,"I say,"I'm sure he will help her."

Annie laughs,"Haymitch? Really? That drunk old cook? I feel like he couldn't tell a rebellion from a walk in the meadow."

I shrug my shoulders,"Either way, I wouldn't be helping her by talking to her."

Annie gives me a strange look, but nods, trusting me.

Pain shoots though me again, bringing with it the knowledge that I do not deserve her trust. But I am grateful for it, because I am not ready to face her. Katniss. The girl who signifies so much, and brings with her both hope and despair. And, besides, it is so important that I play it right. That I make her trust me.

No, I am not yet ready to meet the girl on fire.

Annie looks at me now, as though she has thought of another question to ask, another reason why I need to warn Katniss of her impending doom.

But I don't let her.

Instead, I lean forward, and press my lips to her, kissing her deeply.

And I feel a stirring within my heart, that only Annie can bring. And I want, more than anything, to stay here with her. And then to marry her and go back to district four and live in peace.

Together.

But as we break apart, both our words unspoken and silenced, I realize that I will never have that chance. That I will never be able to teach my son how to fish, or take my daughter to the cave where I first met her mother. That I will never meet a child who is my own.

But instead of letting this drown me, or take the hope I have, I lean in for another kiss and pull Annie into my arms.


	17. Chapter 17

Annie and I walk hand in hand to the ceremony, but when we get to the doors I make a stupid excuse about having to talk to Haymitch, and how I will be right back. Really, I know that the last thing Snow will want is me sitting with Annie in public. He wouldn't be above executing her for that alone. So, I do find Haymitch and exchange a few words, just for conscience sake, so that I honestly was not lying, and then I attempt to find Mags. I am sure the President would prefer me sitting in amongst a large crowd of Capitol women, but I am certain he will not critique me for sitting with Mags, as long as I play the part. And my outfit and behaviour from this moment on will fit perfectly. I will not let him down.

As I walk through the flocks of people in an attempt to find Mags, I am flooded with compliments, fluttering eyelashes, and women attempting to approach and talk to me. I am a celebrity amongst them. Snow could never afford to kill me, at least not now, while I am still a hero in the eyes of the people. But the Games next year will be the perfect way to get rid of me. I wonder if I am under a delusion that there is any chance of my survival. Perhaps Snow has already ordered the Gamemakers to make sure I die in the Cornucopia bloodbath. But then again, probably not. For the Capitol's sake he will let their hero live as long as possible, which may be his downfall. Because by the time he is ready to kill me off, I will hopefully have escaped along with the others.

I am pulled from my thoughts by the President himself suddenly standing in front of me, and I realize that while lost in thought, I have accidentally wandered into the balcony for the President alone. I wish I could make some excuse and slip out, but he sees me, and gestures for me to sit with him.

I take a seat beside him, and put on my most winning smile. "Great night, isn't it?"

He nods, and then surveys me up and down,"I like the outfit," he says. And there is no sarcasm or hint of anger in his voice. I calm down for a moment. Perhaps he is please.

"Where's Annie?" He asks, and I cringe at the sound of her name on his tongue, even though there was not threat behind it.

"I'm not sure." I respond," Sitting somewhere, waiting for the ceremony, most likely."

"Good." Is his only response.

I hope he will dismiss me, because the last place I want to spend the evening is here, with him.

"You may go, Odair." He tells me, as though both reading my thoughts and for some reason deciding to allow my desires to be reality.

"Thank you." I respond, and as quickly as I can stand and make an exit.

But, of course, Snow would not allow me the satisfaction of leaving like this. Almost in peace, really. Instead, he holds up a hand and speaks again:

"Oh, and Finnick?"

I stop, paralyzed by the tone of his voice. Deadly.

"I know about the kiss. Or should I say, kisses."

He means today. The few moments of peace I shared with Annie. How could he know? And why should he care?

"I-I'm sorry. It won't happen again." I respond.

His face is stony and cold.

"It had better not, Finnick. I am beginning to get the feeling that you like toying with me. That these so called _accidents_ of yours are actually you going behind my back and flaunting you ability to do so. Well, know this, you can not go behind my back. Nothing goes unnoticed here, Odair. And nothing goes unpunished."

I am shaking again, but force myself to calm down. When I leave this room my composure must once again be perfect.

"I know, I do. Really. And I'm not. I mean, I don't mean to be. Flaunting you I mean. I promise. Please. Don't hurt her. Please." My voice is shaky and my words are strung together in an almost incoherent breath. But it gets the point across. I didn't mean it. Don't hurt Annie.

He doesn't say anything, but rather turns around once again and faces the stage, which is still empty. It is my cue to leave, but I have trouble doing so, no knowing what his silence means. Is he giving me another chance, or will I be punished for my foolishness? I hope for the former, but am somehow expecting the latter. I wonder how this will all play out. But, wanting to be as obedient as possible, I force my feet to leave the room and I don't look back.

I plaster a smile on my face and wink at the women around me, but my mind is a million miles away. What will he do? Something to hurt Annie, because he knows that is what will get to me the worst. But he doesn't know. That is the only thing that consoles me now. He doesn't know the truth. He doesn't know about the spark.

Or does he?

And then I see her. Wearing a top that sparkles purple and red together, and a pair of black pants, she still looks like she is on fire. Her hair is down, though, not back in a braid as seems to be her usual style. She is with Haymitch, and they are hurrying toward the elevator, probably to get her ready for her big entrance in half an hour or so. She is scanning the crowd, as though looking for something, and for a split second our eyes meet. I can tell that she doesn't notice me, and that it was just a coincidence that her eyes landed on mine, but for me it was so much more. Her eyes are not anything spectacular, only the grey color that so many from District Twelve wear. But in them is a fire. A fire of anger and rebellion long kept hidden. A fire that is ready to ignite, and that will provide the spark that we need. In her eyes I find hope, and I realize that I will fight for her. That if need be, I will give my life for this rebellion. That I will give my life for this girl, this Katniss Everdeen.

And in the time that these thoughts pass through my head, she is gone. Vanished with Haymitch. And I am thankful that I have seen her now, up close. Because when she is on the stage, she will be acting, and I would have been unable to recognize the fire that she has. Cinna, her stylist, was prophetic in his wardrobe choice for her after all.

Katniss, the girl who was on fire, burns still.

And she will be just what is needed to ignite the fires of rebellion in a suffering world that has given up hope, because she herself is one of them. She has known suffering and survived. I think that perhaps we could be friends, if I am able to survive my encounters with her. It's a strange thought, as this is the first time I have seen her. Really seen her, I mean.

And my heart breaks for her. Because I realize that inside of her is just another girl. Another girl who longs to be free, and now she will never have that chance. She will be a hero, the one who lit the fires of rebellion and hopefully brings down the Capitol. I should be happy for this, and happy for her. But the truth is, I can't be. I can't because I know the truth. I know what it means to be named a hero.

And, after all, what hero was ever really happy.

And I promise myself now that I will do everything that I can to protect her and to help her.

And that means playing the role that Snow has given me. It means being the Finnick Odair the Capitol wants to see.

So, instead of heading for where I know Mags will be seated, instead of trying to find Johanna or Annie, or someone I know, I seat myself in the middle of a group of Capitol women who have been obviously swooning over me since I appeared in their field of view. One of them actually faints when I sit down. And suddenly, a smile crosses my face, because I know what I am going to do for my interview next year. Something to both make the Capitol very happy, and yet throw the whole thing into Snow's face, because he, of all people will understand. I laugh under my breath just thinking about it.

After all, if he does understand, he will be powerless to do anything. And the thought of Snow being powerless has the opposite effect on me. It empowers me.

No one talks to me, either out of fear of rejection, or just the thought of speaking to someone like myself is to much for most of them. I don't mind, of course. I prefer it this way.

Ceasar Flickerman enters the stage soon enough, and begins with some introductory phrases and jokes, and then Katniss and Peeta join him on stage. A love seat has been positioned next to Ceasar, rather than the customary chair, and the pair positions themselves on it, Katniss snuggling up closely to Peeta. Good. No one would guess that they were anything other than a pair of lovebirds, meaning no defiance against the Capitol. Of course, most of the Capitol people wouldn't recognize outright defiance if there was any.

They begin the replay of the Games. Everything revolves around Katniss and Peeta. The Star Crossed Lovers of District Twelve are truly the stars of the show. And they should be, of course.

My thoughts and focus are torn away, though, by a small tug on my sleeve. I turn around and find a young girl, twelve at the oldest, staring up at me. Well, I guess I shouldn't say young. I look at the screens to where Rue's death is now being featured. The children in the Districts are thrown into the arena at that age.

Nonetheless, I incline my head back to the girl, and ask,"Yes? What is it?"

She doesn't speak, and instead gestures to the door. I consider following, but realize that the Capitol audience is almost in tears, as Katniss is now on screen, singing Rue to sleep. To death. You could hear a pin drop in the room. So I shake my head at the girl, and point to the screen. She seems to understand, and gestures with her hand for me to follow, and then taps her wrist twice, as though saying to come when this scene is over. I nod, confused as to what she wants.

I can't focus on anything for the next few minutes, except what the child's strange visit could mean. When the scene with Rue is over, it switches to the announcement that two tributes can now win the Games, if they are from the same district, and everyone in the Capitol audience gets to their feet and begins to applaud. They have to pause the tape to settle everyone down. I seize this moment and opportunity, and slip out to follow the girl.

The hallway outside the auditorium is completely empty, except for the child, who is waiting just outside. She places a finger to her lips, and makes a small shushing sound. I am completely confused, but follow her instructions.

She leads me to a small stairwell, and ducks underneath. We are almost entirely concealed from any direction, though I don't know that it matters, since the halls are empty anyway.

It is only now that she speaks. Her voice is quiet, almost shy, and completely unlike her extraverted appearance.

"I'm Mia." She tells me.

I smile at her,"I'm Finnick." I respond.

She laughs, as though that is such an obvious fact that I need not have mentioned it. I realize that probably everyone in the Capitol capable of speech probably knows my name.

But she says, simply,"Nice to meet you, Finnick."

I shake my head,"Well, what did you bring me here, for?"

She takes a deep breath. "I don't know if it matters. See, I'm kind of able to move around without being seen. Like Rue. You know, the girl in the Games? She was twelve, just like me. I wanted her to win. Well, I wanted everyone to win. Aren't these Games just stupid?" Her voice is raised now, and she is almost in tears as she says the words.

I nod, agreeing with her, but am very surprised to hear such coming from a girl who has lived in the Capitol her entire life.

"My father let me sponsor Rue. He is very rich and powerful, you know. Not as powerful as grandfather, of course..." her voice trails off. Of course, I have no idea who she is speaking of, but I nod anyways.

"But, see, my mother told me to sit with the other children while she found a good seat for the presentation tonight. But I don't like sitting with the other children, and we were here so early that I got bored. I decided to see if I could sneak up on father and hear what he was talking about, because it seemed important. He was talking to some guy named...Plutarch, I think. He's the head gamemaker, you know, because they killed the other one." She says this very matter of factly, as though she is quite above it all.

The girl continues,"Well, anyways, they were talking, and Plutarch said he would tell the President, and get his opinion on the matter. Father interrupted and said that of course he had already spoken with him, himself, seeing their relationship, of course." She eyes me, like I should understand this, and I don't, but I continue to nod, and she goes on.

"He said that Finnick Odair might be a Capitol favourite, but he needed to die. He said that they had discussed his possible uses, but they felt it best if he were to be killed in the arena. Not right away, of course, but perhaps a few days in. A week at most. Plutarch nodded, said 'of course' and left. His face was very urgent looking. I only thought it was fair to tell you, because I don't want you to die." She says.

I shake my head to clear it of the confusion this has brought on. She can't be telling the truth, can see. No, of course not. She is just making it up. There are so many reasons why this is the case. I mean, a little girl would not be privy to such information, even in secret. And if they were, they wouldn't have the forethought to actually come and warn me. It's probably just a game she is playing, in order to tell her friends later that she actually had a conversation with the infamous Finnick Odair. Of course. That is all it is. It couldn't be anymore. But one look at her face seems to say differently. She is very somber. Not childish at all.

A cannon goes off in the background, and I realize that the film is coming to an end. Mia looks a little frantic and exclaims:"Oh, I have to go now." She makes to leave, and then seems to remember something, and reaches into her pocket, bringing out a handful of white cubes.

Sugar cubes.

"Want a sugar cube?" she asks me," I always take them from grandfather's office when he isn't looking. I mean, I could get candy or something, but these have always been my favourite."

I smile at her, but inside this confirms my suspicions that she may have been correct. That she is telling the truth. Because why else would such a coincidence occur? But I take a sugar cube from the pile in her palm, and wave to her as she scurries away, grinning from ear to ear, like she just accomplished the most heroic deed in the world.

I am about to slip the cube in my mouth, when I notice something. Engraved in the side of the cube. And then her words come back to me, and I realize without a shadow of a doubt that what she was saying was the truth after all. She told me that she took cubes from her grandfathers office, and engraved in this cube is the symbol of Panem. The symbol that would only be engraved on one person's sugar cubes, in one person's office.

Snow.

She is the granddaughter of President Snow.

* * *

A/N Thanks so much for sticking with the story thus far! You guys are amazing! :) Please review!


	18. Chapter 18

**I'm sorry! I posted the wrong chapter last time: I posted this one before the one that came before it. Chapter seventeen is now the correct chapter, and this is the one that was earlier chapter seventeen. So, if you were a little confused about what wasn't matching up, that's why!**

**...**

Annie is mad at me again. I guess I should have known, leaving her at the ceremony last night without an explanation. Of course, I spent the night at another white slip address, and didn't see her again until this afternoon.

She isn't talking to me.

So much for yesterday. I thought she understood. It will pass, though, I am sure. After all, we are back on the train for district four in an hour. I will have lots of time to explain things. To explain the truth. And we will have another year away from the Capitol's prying eyes.

Our last year.

No. I force the word onto myself. No. I can't allow myself to believe that. I will survive. I will come back to be with her. Or at least, I must tell myself that. I have learned enough to know that to give up hope is to have none. I must believe that there can be hope. That there is hope.

Because there always is hope. Sometimes you just have to search for it.

I know this better than anyone probably. I remember that day like it was yesterday, when they flooded the arena. When Annie was the only tribute left who really knew how to swim. When she was crowned the victor.

I was her mentor, but they didn't let me see her until the day we were to board the train back to district four. A day much like today. Of course, I felt from her interviews that something was wrong, but I couldn't pinpoint it. When I got her back she was only a shadow of her former self, and it seemed that there was nothing that I could do to bring her back to me.

I thought I had no hope.

She didn't seem to know who I was. Or she was afraid of me. Afraid of everyone, and everything. Any noise, anything out of place. Even regular activity. She would put her hands over her ears, grimace. But she wouldn't let anyone help her, and trying just made it worse. She didn't speak. Didn't even acknowledge anyone's presence.

I almost gave up on her. I came so close. I still can't believe that I ever considered it, but it had been almost three months. I had barely known her that long as her normal self. The one day, I took her to the cave where we had first met. I packed a picnic, complete with a thermos of tea and a bag of sugar cubes. When I handed her one, she looked at me. Really looked at me, for the first time in months. And spoke.

"Finnick?"

I dropped the sugar cube that was still halfway between us, and swerved to face her, grabbing her hand, still outstretched.

"Yes, Annie. Yes."

"I've had some terrible dreams..." she told me. And that was what she thought at first, or at least had tried to convince herself of. That it was all a dream. Over time she came to understand and maybe even come partially to terms with it. No, that isn't the correct term for her. She has never been the same, but she has gotten so much better. Especially recently. I have seen a joy in her eyes that was missing for years, and I have almost forgotten that we were ever victors of the games, her and I.

Not victors. Of course not. Just participants.

That is why the knowledge of what next year will entail breaks my heart. Not even because I know it may mean my death. Not because I know that the only chance we may ever have at rebellion lies in the balance. But because I know what it will do to Annie. Knowing that I have to go back in will break her again. She will return to what she was, after the games. And if she finds out the truth. The rebellion, Snow's plot against me. She will never forgive me for keeping it from her. Or, at least, it will be difficult. We will never be the same again.

And there it is. The stakes are high. If I tell her the truth, it must be all or nothing. And I risk losing the precious time we have left. I risk her descending into a state of madne-no, that is the Capitol's word for her. But she is not mad. She is, perhaps, unstable, but even that is a stretch for who she is right now. But it defines the person she may become if she knows the truth. And I desperately want to leave this world, if that is what it takes, knowing that our last days together were spent in peace, joy, and love. Together, in body and mind.

Anything else in unthinkable.

But I wonder if the other option, keeping everything from her, is any better. It allows me to die in peace, but it leaves her to live believing that everything she knew was a lie. Encased in black, in mourning, in sorrow, i deception. And I can't allow that.

I close my eyes. This is to much to ponder when our relationship is unstable enough as it is. We love each other. I don't doubt that. We won't break apart, but I can't stand to have her mad at me.

I decide to work on fixing what I have broken this time, however unfair the accusations may be. Another day, another week, even another month...I don't think it is unfair of me to keep it from her for that long. After that, I don't know. But I will make my decision later. Not now.

Now I will enjoy the time I have left. Even if it means pretending to be sorry, and saying I am wrong for the sake of peace. Even if it must mean weaving a net of deception for the sake of love, just for the moment.

After all, I am very good at weaving nets.


	19. Chapter 19

Annie won't speak to me all day. In fact, I don't really see her. She appears for supper, stays silent, ignoring my attempts at conversation, and then slips back to her room. My mind is running in circles, trying to figure out what is wrong. She must understand the truth about last night, meaning her pain goes so much deeper. I thought we had it sorted out yesterday. Before the ceremony. Apparently I was wrong. She told me I was everything to her, that she couldn't live without me. I wonder if that was just meant to comfort me.

And then I shake my head. Of course not. I am overthinking this. She is just hurt, that's all. Not that there was anything I could do about it, but I can understand that it must not be easy being the love interest of Finnick Odair. As difficult as it is for me, it must be difficult for her as well, only in a different way. She suffers because she can't bear to see me with anyone but her, but more so, she suffers for me. She suffers because she knows how much I suffer. And she told me once, that what hurts her most is that I am not truthful with her. That is the one thing that I guess really is my fault. That I can not bring myself to tell her the truth. That fear of the future, and of what the truth may bring, is holding me back. I wish it wasn't, but that is just the way it is. I have far to many secrets to tell.

I wince at that, even though it was I myself who thought it. So many secrets. My clients, as the President claims them to be, used to pay me with riches. Jewels, gold, whatever I wanted. I took it, and gave it away to those in my district. But district four is not as bad as many of the others, eleven, twelve. There aren't as many people in need, and I collected far more money than I would ever have reason or need to use. It became a source of gossip in my district, not that they didn't talk about me before. I am both hated and loved by the people. Loved, in that however disliked I may be, I am good looking. I wish I wasn't, I really do. It would make things so much easier. I have been asked to give presentations in the school before, and have seen pictures of myself filling the lockers of the students. I hate it. But I am also hated, even by those who are supposedly in love with me, because of the image I have had to put on. The "above it all, better than any of you, sex symbol of Panem image." I hate that even more. Only in the Capitol am I loved by everyone. Well, not Snow. But he doesn't fit in with everyone in my mind. His evil sinks him lower than the dirt. I can't even think of him as a person, because what kind of person would do the things that he has done? No person, that's who. I wonder if I am the only person who has spent time imagining ways to kill the President. And yet, there is a part of me that knows that even this is wrong, because how I am any better than him in that circumstance. I am not, really. I'm not.

I shake my head to clear it and try to remember what began this line of thinking. That is the funny thing about thoughts, if you don't guard them closely you can end up somewhere you never planned or desired to go. And then I remember.

Secrets.

That started a few years ago. I was sick of gold, and jewels, and of feeling so above it all. So, instead of asking for physical payment, I requested from my hosts to know their secrets. Their deepest, darkest, most awful truths. And they were more than willings. Because, no matter who you are, it is always good to have a confider. Especcially when that confider is a boy from district four, who will never have the ability to tell without swift punishment. I wrote everything that I heard down. Not that it will ever do me any good, but it gave me satisfaction somehow. In a way that physical payment never could. Each one of my clients have taken away a piece of me, and so it seems only fair that I should leave with a piece of them.

I have heard the saying, an eye for an eye. In this case, taking their secrets in no way replaces what they have taken from me, but it is something, at least. Something that they can never take back. No measure of physical or verbal abuse can remove it. Because secrets are something that have know been engrained in my mind, and though I still keep a record, I could tell you every secret I have ever heard from any person, if you just gave me their name.

That is why it is so difficult for me to tell the truth to Annie. Why, though it breaks my heart, I can not be honest with her. Because I am so used to keeping secrets.

I never told her that. What I do know, why the money has stopped flowing in. And she never asked. It is just another secret that I have added to the list.

Someday, the weight of everything will break me. No, that isn't true, I guess. It has already broken me.

But the secret to remaining whole is not that you do not allow yourself to be broken. Everyone will break at some point. And when you have gone through what I have gone through, it is an every day process. Breaking, and healing. But it is the healing that is important. You can be broken, and still be whole, you just need to realize that life is worth living, and that even though there is bad in the world, there is good too. You need to hold on to every moment of good, every moment that is worth while, and let go of every bad one. Life is to short to hold grudges, to spend time hating. Those who do become just as dark and evil as those that they hate. Instead, find what is beautiful in the world, and tell yourself that even if you will never be innocent and even if you will never be fully healed, tell yourself that it is worth moving on to make sure that what is good and innocent stays good and innocent. It is worth moving on to make sure that there is always good in the world. And that will always be true. Good is always worth fighting for.

A wise woman once told me that. Mags. I swallow hard when I think of her. When I think of losing her. She has been my best friend, beyond Annie. In some ways, better. I love Annie, but of course, she needs me as much as I need her. We put each other back together. Whereas Mags has somehow managed to retain a wholeness of self that I know I will never attain. She is genuinely good, and wise. And she has never given up on me.

And so, when I hear her voice scream, as though in pain, and hear the sirens go off all throughout the train, I am frozen. I don't understand. And then I realize that something has happened. To Mags. Something bad.

I sprint off the couch where I have been sitting, and push past attendants to where I know her room is. People already crowd the door, and I see the white robe of what must be a doctor. My throat sinks into my stomach, and my heart begins to beat fast like never before. No. No. Not Mags. Not now. Please. My thoughts silently beg for this to be a mistake, for it to have just been a bad dream.

I push through the crowd in front of me, and see her on the bed. Her eyes are closed, and she is white, and so, so still. I fall to my knees, and then notice it. Her chest, rising and falling. Slowly, but steadily.

She is alive. She isn't dead. I haven't lost her yet.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and look up to see the woman who must be the doctor, her white robe giving her away.

"She's had a stroke. It's not good. She may not survive."

Comforting words.

I stand and hiss,"You have to keep her alive. You don't understand. I'll hurt you, I'll-"and then I am sobbing, and it takes the meaning from my words. The doctor is not fazed, I am sure she has heard worse. Instead of responding in kind, she smiles gently, but I can tell it is forced.

"We will do everything we can. She's strong. She'll pull through."

I nod, but the tears are streaming down my face, and I can't stop, I can't stop. My vision is blurred, and I am drowning, I am drowning. Black spots dot my eyes. I can't, I have to be strong, for Mags. For Mags. For Annie.

But I can't. The stress of the last few days. The President's threat, the Quarter Quell, Haymitch's plan, the girl on fire, Annie's absence, and now this. The imminent possibility that I may lose Mags. It is too much, and though I try to fight it, my body is to worn physically to put up any fight, and gives out on me.

Tomorrow will be better. It has to be.

I succumb to the blackness and the peace that it brings.


	20. Chapter 20

What is peace? Is it the act of not being involved in a fight, or an attempt at stopping destruction wherever possible, through whatever means? Or is it a mixture of both. Could it perhaps, rather than meaning just coexisting in perfect harmony and never fighting back, mean something more. Is perfect happiness even possible? No. So then, is not peace just as much the act of fighting for what is right, to bring about the best possible end to suffering, even if the best possible end does not mean perfection. Yes, I think so. Because, what else can it mean. I have seen people say that all they want is peace, and so they sit back and do nothing, saying they don't want to cause a war. But is a war not already upon us, whether we understand this or not? Is a war not more than just physical fighting, but also spiritual. A battle between the forces of good and evil in every realm, not just our own? And is not that battle raging right now. Of course it is. So we are in the middle of a war. And to not join in the fight, to not work towards some greater good, is foolishness. Foolishness.

These thoughts all rush through my mind just before blackness completely takes me, and my head hits the floor, capsizing me into a world I have always tried to avoid. A world where nothing is as it seems, and everything seems real. A world where your worst nightmares, and greatest desires, combine to produce something unimaginable. A world where you may long for death, only to realize this longing is both misplaced and impossible. Because you are engulfed in it. In death. And escape is impossible.

The first face I see is Annie's. She approaches me, grinning, but not in the way she normally does. Then she begins to speak, but I can't hear her. Her lips move, but no sounds escape them. I grow frantic, flailing, trying to reach, but she stands as though trapped behind a wall. I reach it, and find that it is like hard glass, unbreakable, though I pound against it with all my strength. She doesn't look worried, or even upset. I look at her face, and it transforms before me. Her eyes grow slanted, and her pupils dilate, as though her eyes are just black holes of nothing. Her lips puff up, and her nose grows larger. Then her tongue flies out of her mouth, but it is not her tongue. It is a snakes tongue, long and thin. It flits up and slowly wets the end of her lips. But hey aren't hers. They are his. The President's.

He stares at me now, nothing of Annie left, and then the glass wall recedes into the ground, and I am standing in front of him. He speaks, and the voice is not his. It is lower, in a hiss, but unmistakably the voice of Annie.

"You are worthless. You can not be loved. You are nothing, nothing, nothing..."

Her voice fades out, but the word nothing continues to echo around the room. I hear another voice behind me, and turn to look, but I see nothing. When I spin back, the President is gone. But the voice remains.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

I fall to the ground, curling up with my knees to my chest, and clench my hands over my ears, trying to block out the words. Her words. But I can't. They travel through space and matter, and my hands do nothing to cover them. I can't escape them. I can't.

And then I hear the call again.

"Help, Finnick!" The voice screams,"Help!" The voice is initially Annie's, and sounds strange combined with her statement of 'nothing' that continues to repeat. And then the echo dissipates, and the scream changes. It is Katniss's scream. The girl on fire. The girl who has become a beacon of hope, even to me. And she is in trouble.

I spin around, but am surrounded by darkness on all sides, and then it transforms, and I am standing in dense underbrush. I don't know what type of forest this is, perhaps a jungle. But I have only heard of such things, and can not put a name to it for certain. But Katniss's voice continues to scream, and then it is joined by a multitude of others, and I don't recognize some of them, and some I do, and then I look up and notice the voices are being screamed from the beaks of small birds of all different shapes and sizes. And I see the one that looks like katniss, because the eyes are hers, like the mutts in this year's games. She is staring at me with wide eyes, or at least the bird is. And suddenly I feel myself being lifted up off the ground and into the trees, and I am face to face with her, and then she too transforms, but it is into herself, rather than some mutt version of who she could be. She is dressed all in white, like a wedding dress, and I don't understand why she is in such an elaborate gown in the middle of the forest, but she is, and she is in a tree, and she couldn't have climbed up here with it on, so she must have flown. So she must be a bird, not Katniss. A mutt after all. But then she speaks, and I know it is her.

"You've failed, Finnick. It's your fault. All of this. You couldn't even do one little thing. Be the person Snow wanted you to be. You couldn't. And now so many people will die because of it. Because of you."

"No." I am whispering the word, but it isn't helping. She must be right. But she can't be, she can't be.

And then some animals I have never seen before spears her through the heart, and disappears into blackness, and I watch the light leave her eyes, as well as the hatred for me that is implanted within them.

And the birds take up their chorus of horror again, but this time only one stands out to me. Among the birds is a small white one, with gentle eyes, that can only be one person. Mags. And she too needs my help.

I leap out of the tree, even though I must be a thousand stories up, and land safely on the ground. And then I flee, because there is nothing else that I can do. I flee and leave the birds behind me, with their words that strike fear into my heart when I do not need it. I can not listen to them, not now. I can't.

But she follows me, always at my shoulder, never leaving, screaming words in my ear. Of failure, and of worthlessness. Mags. She won't leave me alone, until I run into a clearing, and see a table set up in the middle, and then she flies to the table, and lands on top of a woman, and then disappears. The woman has long white hair, and aging skin with wrinkles. Her eyes are closed, and I walk up to the table. Mags, the real Mags. And yet not. A fear strikes me, as I see the truth. She is not breathing. I frantically feel for a pulse, but there isn't one. She is dead, gone, and her body is cold. She has been here for a while.

I lay my head on the table and sob, not able to move, not able to think. And then water starts to build up at my feet, and pours into the clearing like a pool, and my body is lead, and I can not move. The water is at my chest, my neck. I am drowning. I will die here, like this. Unable to move or to breathe. It seems fitting.

The water covers me, engulfing me, and I can not breathe, but it doesn't matter. I am still alive, and I don't need breathe. I am just trapped. I watch Mags float up from the table, and then suddenly her eyes pop open, and her mouth drops in an unheard scream. And then the air fills with the scream, and I realize it is not hers.

It is mine.

And then her face begins to transform, as Annie's did. I don't understand at first. Color begins to fill her face again, a pinky red, filling her with life. And then everything darkens, and her hair turns the color of blood, and her face and neck all transform into the same inky red. I can taste it. Her blood, mingled with sea salt. And then another transformation. Her entire body contorts, and suddenly I am seeing nothing of Mags, but rather a perfect white flower, with a small drop of blood on one of its petals.

A rose.

A laugh fills the water. His laugh.

And then I am screaming, and thrashing, and I open my eyes and realize I have escaped. Not just the water, but the jungle world itself. The scream freezes in my throat. I try to relax, but I am still hazy and can't understand the truth. That it was just a dream. My body is tense, and I am cold, shivering, though the room itself is warm and I am covered in blankets. My body is shaking uncontrollably, and I am covered in sweat from head to toe. As I slowly reenter the world of the living, I whisper to myself, '_A dream, it was just a dream, only a dream. You are okay. Everyone is okay. Just a dream. A dream.'_ But I can not force myself to believe it, and all their words come back to haunt me. That I am the cause of everything that has happened. That it is me. That it is me.

I choke and swallow the bile that builds itself up in my throat. My heart will not stop beating at a thousand miles an hour, and my body will not stop shaking, and I can not pull myself fully from the world of dreams. The world of death.

I lay there for what seems like days, months, trying to get myself under control. Why isn't Annie here? Why isn't she here to comfort me, like I do when she wakes to nightmares of the arena? Then I remember that she is mad at me, that she isn't speaking to me, and my body is wracked by another wave of uncontrollable sobs at the thought that I could lose her. Because without her I am nothing, I am lost, and it would be my fault, and I can't stand it.

Finally, I am able to control myself enough to calm down. My heart is still beating irregularly, but not as fast, and I am still shaking, but not nearly as hard, and my mind is still racing, but not ending up in the same places it does when I first pull myself out of a nightmare.

I am broken. I understand this. I can never be whole again, but I can maybe be happy, if even for short periods of time. But I need Annie. I can never be happy again, even for a moment, without her. If there was one upside to the nightmare, it was this newfound knowledge, even though I have had it all along. I can not allow myself to lose her, no matter what it means. I can't. And so I turn, planning to stand up, to leave the room, and my eyes land on the nightstand beside my bed, and my heart stops. I know it does because I can no longer hear it, loudly in my ears, beating like a rabbit. For sitting on the side of my bed is a small, white rose.

And I am drowning again, and that is when I realize that I am still dreaming. That I never fully woke up, and that this is all a part of the nightmare. The unending nightmare perhaps, that will never be fully over until my body is six feet under and I have passed on to whatever comes after death. Of course I have not woken up. I should have known. There is only one thing that ever fully wakes me up from a nightmare of this magnitude. And it does not involve a slight pinch to shake myself awake. Because I am unconscious. Somewhere my mind registers this fact, and I realize what I have to do to fully wake myself from this haze. And my body begins to shake again as I recall.

It appears in front of me. The silver trident. The same one that was sent to me in a parachute in my own games. The most expensive gift ever sent, and the one that both guaranteed my victory, and also the first person that I would ever spend a night with. Because what better way to say thank you for saving my life, right? Or at least, in the mind of the President. But still, I reach for the trident, and when my fingers touch it, I am back in my own game. In the arena that traps me far to often. In the arena that signified my fate, and the life that I will always live. The life that I will never be able to escape, no matter what. Ever.

The sky is dark, as it always is. I follow a path that is familiar under my feet, because I have had this same nightmare thousands of times before, and I know what I must do. But it doesn't make it any easier. It gets harder each time.

I step into a clearing, much like the one with the table, and Mags. The trees close in on me, and as always, there is no more escape. My fate lies here.

A young woman appears in the middle, and she turns, her green eyes staring into my own.

Annie.

She is draped in a white dress, like Katniss was. It is different every time, but this one looks like a wedding dress. She is a bride. Who's bride? My mind shuts itself down, so I don't need to think about it.

She runs to me, and wraps her arms around me, as she does every time. I let my own arms hand by my side, unable to return her affection, knowing what I must do next. A light fills the sky, and the Capitol anthem fills the air, and then a voice. But instead of the voice of Caesar Flickerman, the Capitol interviewer, who it has always been, the voice now belongs to someone else. At first I can't place it, and then I realize it is my own. And I want to scream.

My voice speaks, but it can't be mine, because I am not using my voice. The air fills with the words that are both mine and not mine. And I don't understand.

"You must kill her, if you are to survive." the words are the same as usual, only the voice is different. And then the President's laugh fills the arena. Also new. Strange.

I used to fight it, to try to find some way to save us both, but it just prolonged the dream, and it always ended the same way. Now I know what I have to do, and I don't waste time. I raise my trident, and am about to close my eyes and thrust it, when she speaks. She has never spoken to me before.

"Wait."

I stop, and lower my arm immediately. I feel sick.

She holds out her arm, and uncurls her fingers. What I see both astonishes me and fills me with joy. Because it seems that not only has Katniss given us a spark, she has also given me a greater hope, and a way of escape. Because in her hand, Annie holds the same berries Katniss used to save herself and Peeta.

Nightlock.

I grab them, wrapping my fingers around them, and take Annie's hand in my own. We stand together, and count.

"One." I say.

"Two." she responds.

"Three." Our voices overlap on this last word. This command. And I lift my hand to my mouth and swallow the berries, and she does as well. We will not survive this, but perhaps it will end the nightmare.

It gives me a feeling of relief, either way.

And when I wake for real, I feel a hand encased in mine, and a voice soothing me. And when I open my eyes, I am looking into Annie's and she leans down and kisses me gently.

"I'm sorry," she whispers,"I understand now. I love you."

Those are the words I have always wanted to hear.

And I realize that as she saved me in the dream, from the command to kill her, she is here, saving me again. But the thing is, when people save one another, it is usually from a threat to their life, or from a physical or mental threat from someone or something else. But that isn't how it is with Annie and me. We have never been normal.

No, Annie does not save me from anything physical, but what she does save me from, I could never fight without her. I need her, beyond anything else in the world.

She saves me from myself.

I lean in and kiss her again, and repeat the words,"I love you. I love you, Annie."

And she smiles gently, and wraps her arms around me, and leans in beside me, and we stay that way, wrapped in each others arms, for a long time.

And when the Capitol attendant enters my room, with two things, neither affect me as I thought they would. Only because of Annie.

"Mags will pull through. She will never be the same, but she will pull through."

Then the young man hands me a white rose, and says that it was sent from someone. He doesn't know who, but it came with a message that said I would understand.

And I do. Mags will survive. Annie and I are together, and nothing can separate us. I may be broken, but I too will survive, and I will play a part in the rebellion that will bring down Snow forever. This rose was meant to hurt me, yet again, but it hasn't. In fact, it has the opposite effect. It makes me stronger, and gives me more reason to hate him. Snow.

I take the rose in my hand, and look at Annie. She too, understands what this means, and I realize I will need to tell her the truth, because I can no longer keep it from her. And relief fills me, because it means I don't need to keep the truth to myself any longer.

But I do the one thing that I am capable of. I take the rose in my fist and crush it, letting the liquid inside it run slowly down my hand, and feeling the thorns push themselves into my palm. I may be injured when I defeat him, but I can defeat him, and isn't that all that matters? That and love.

So I wrap my arms around Annie again, and pull her in.

And this time, when we kiss, it is a kiss full of passion and love and loyalty and hope. It signifies our love in a way nothing has for a long time. And I know that I will never lose her. Ever.

Our lips do not break apart for a long time.


	21. Chapter 21

It has been a long time since I have felt at peace. So incredibly long.

Not since I was a boy, held in the loving arms of my mother, have I felt this way. Before her death. Before my father changed so much. I was hurt, and I grew so far from him after that, after what happened between us. It still hurts to think of it. All I wanted was his love. To feel at peace in his home, in our home. But now I have my own, and I have lost him. And even after everything that he has done, it still hurts. Just another addition to everything that has made up my life. But here, in Annie's arms, it is like everything else fades away. There is nothing but me and her, and our love. Nothing but us.

I pull her closer into me and smell the fragrance of salt and ocean water that never leaves anyone from District Four, no matter how many weeks they spend away from the ocean. I run my fingers through her hair, but our lips don't part. She wraps her arms around me, pressing me closer, and I kiss her harder, deeper, as though this is the last kiss we will ever have.

When we finally break apart, it is because the train has come to a stop, and people are running around, telling us we need to move. I stare into her eyes, and kiss her one last time, gently. She closes her eyes, taking quick, shallow breaths. When I release her, she opens them again, and stares at me. Her sea green eyes meet my own, and though a few people have entered our room now, there is still no one here but us, and nothing here but our love.

"I love you, Annie," I whisper.

She is smiling. Really smiling. "I love you too, Finnick."

The words break the silence, and end the moment, but somehow I know it will not be the last. We will share many more moments like this.

Then a thought stabs me, and I wish that I could have lived in this moment forever, but reality hits me like a knife. I wish I could marry her. I wish I could, but it is unfair of me. Unfair of me, because I know what the year will bring, and I can not leave her to fend for herself when it is over. I realize that, no matter what Haymitch has told me, that is what I am doing anyway. But I made a promise, and even though, looking at Annie know, I desperately want to break it, I can't. Finnick Odair always keeps his promises.

Annie is staring at me strangely now, and my eyes drift to my hands, and I realize that I am still clutching the broken rose. The cause of all our problems lies in the petals, and how I wish they were broken and shattered as it is. But they aren't, and they won't be unless I do something about it. If I don't help Haymitch, everything could be lost. Everything.

I can't let that happen.

My eyes stay on the flower too long, though, and I can tell that Annie has grown suspicious. That she knows that something is wrong, if the delivery of the rose itself did not plant this in her mind. But, to her credit, she does not mention it with so many others around. I know I am not off the hook, though. She is just saving it for later.

When we are alone again.

I stand up, and realize that I am no longer shaking. I give the attendants from the Capitol a small smile, and offer Annie a hand. I help her up, and only then do I remember Mags.

"Mags?" I question," How is she?"

A man dressed in servants clothing, but still obviously from the Capitol, shakes his head,"Not well. She took a turn for the worst a few minutes ago. The doctors have already unloaded her and are bringing her to one of your district doctors."

I want to scream at him. To say that our supposed 'district doctors' probably don't know a toothpick from a scalpel, and they may as well bury Mags as send her to one of them. But I know that this conversation is probably being recorded, and everything I say could be used against me. So I just nod.

"Where?" Annie asks.

"Someone named Mira Steeves. I don't know anything else." the man responds.

Another attendant, a woman this time, cuts in after glancing at her clipboard," House number 42. Left end of town. If that helps."

I nod to her,"Thank you."

She gives me a small smile, but it looks more like a grimace. It is funny how the people in the Capitol would hang on to any word I said to them, but these train attendants would rather I didn't speak to them at all.

I tighten my grip on Annie's hand and pull her towards the door. She doesn't resist, and allows me to guide her down the hallway, off the train, and down the street toward's house 42. I have never heard the name Mira Steeves before, but I guess that isn't strange. District Four is one of the larger districts, and I don't know nearly everyone, despite being a victor and having lived here my entire life. Honestly, I feel like I barely know anyone outside of Annie's family and a few select others. And I am still not welcome inside Annie's home. Not fully, at least.

"She'll pull through, Finnick. She's strong," Annie's voice breaks through my thoughts, her words trying to comfort me. I am not sure whether they are filled with truth, or just a desire to ease my stress and pain.

"She has too," I say,"She needs too."

Annie doesn't question this, thinking it is just the pleading words of a grieving child, desperate for the survival of someone who is like a mother to him. But it is so much more. The thought may be horrible, but who will volunteer for Annie if Mags dies? Who will help me carry out the plan I need? How can I get Katniss to like me, without Mags? It won't happen. It will be impossible. I think for a moment that perhaps the success of the rebellion depends on Mags survival right now.

And then I wonder if it matters. Because if she is thrown in the arena with me in a year, she will probably still die, if I am to worry about saving Katniss and Peeta, rather than her. And a death in the arena will be far worse than what she is going through now.

As soon as the thought enters my head I shove it to the side. It may be true that her death now may not be as painful, or as peaceful as a death in the arena, but she would not think that way, and she would not want me to think that way either. If she dies now, she will be remembered as an old woman. My mentor, perhaps. But she will not have died for a reason, doing something. If she dies in the arena, she will be remembered as a hero, as a key player in the rebellion. People will remember her. And, of course, Mags motives will not involve being remembered, only helping along the rebellion, but it is important to me that she is remembered. And that is why she can not die now, because she needs to be able to know that her death was for a cause. She needs to know that her life was for a reason, and that everything that she has strived for has succeeded. That is why she can't...no, that is why she won't...die now. Annie is right. She is far to strong for that.

I feel a sensation that is almost peace flood me as we continue towards the house. No, Mags will not die. She will pull through. And, if she does die in the arena, she will be remembered as a hero. Never forgotten. Ever.

Warmth fills me.

We continue hand in hand for about ten minutes, and then turn down a short street to come to a stop in front of house 42. It is one of the houses for the middle class, those who are not poor and live in what District Twelve would call the Seam, but what we call simply, the slum. There aren't enough people there for it to have a proper name, as Four is one of the better off districts, and even the people in the slum have very little chance of ever starving. This house, though, has a small front porch, is nicely painted, and looks to have two stories. A tell tale glow in the front window shows a fireplace, and probably a kitchen. I am thankful, at least, that Mags will not be treated on a dirt floor or something. But, like I said, this isn't district twelve, and my mind was switching to the absolute worst case scenario. At least we have real doctors here, even if they aren't all to well trained.

Annie is the one pulling me now, and knocks hard on the front door three times. A young girl opens it, probably about fifteen, and gives us a quizzical look, before her eyes light in understanding. It isn't every day the infamous Finnick Odair shows up at your door step, and it must have taken her a moment to connect me with Mags. When she does, she wastes no time ushering us into what must be the living room, and asking us to wait while she runs to check with her mother. I don't sit, but instead begin to pace the room, worry filling me again, despite my earlier thoughts.

"Worrying isn't going to help anything, Finnick," Annie tells me," My mother once told me that worrying was about as effective as trying to untie a knot by spearing it with a trident. You only break the knot, or cut it, or something. You can't untie it."

I nod to her, but in my mind I am already trying to figure out what angle I would need to throw from, and how fast and from how far in order to untie a knot. But she's right, it would be nearly impossible, and that is assuming the knot is very simple and loosely tied. A tightly tied knot, even of the simplest sort, would without a doubt be impossible. I wonder where her mother learned anything about trident, and then realize that you don't really have to know anything about them to figure that out. Besides, it was probably just meant to be a figure of speech, not something to be overly evaluated.

Annie smiles at the look on my face,"Should I take you to the beach afterwards, so you can attempt to untie a knot with your trident in whatever way your mind has found out?"

I laugh, because I can't help it, and somehow it seems appropriate,"How did you know that was what I was thinking?"

Annie grins,"I know you pretty well, Finnick. You won't take no for an answer until you have tried it yourself. Besides, your face went deep into thought immediately, and there was only one thing you could have been thinking about."

I smile slyly,"Actually, there were a lot of things I could have been thinking about. Like you, for instance, and how beautiful you look right now."

She rolls her eyes, but her grin widens anyway,"Come on, Finnick. You know what I meant."

I laugh,"I know, I was just teasing."

Annie makes a face at me, and I stick my tongue out at her, and then we are both laughing, because we haven't been able to joke like this in a long time. By the time the girl comes back downstairs, we are almost hysterical and have forgotten completely where we are, and why we are here. I am the first to notice the girls confused expression, and instead of making me shut up, I just laugh harder, because Annie is right, and worrying won't do any good now, and besides, it feels so good to just laugh and forget all our problems, even if it is just for a while.

After a minute we both quiet, and calm ourselves. The girl is staring at us as though we are both crazy, and perhaps we are. But she gestures us up the stairs nonetheless.

"I'm Finnick," I tell her, even though she obviously knows already.

"And I'm Annie," Annie responds, winking at me.

I almost laugh again, but it seems so out of place, and I can't understand why I am not upset and worried, but I am not, because Mags will pull through, and worrying isn't going to help her.

"I'm Kandy," the girl responds, seemingly unfazed by our introductions, as though she expected it after our earlier actions. And then her face lights up as well, as though she too has been hit by whatever bug of happiness we have been bitten by,"Spelled with a K. I'm not sweet enough to be Candy with a C."

It isn't really that funny, but I smirk anyway, and wink at her. She smiles back at me, and any awkwardness is cut off. She leads us to a room, and tells us to go ahead inside. Annie walks in, but she catches my arm right before I enter.

"You aren't at all like what they say, are you?" she requests.

My face turns immediately solemn, because I remember what Snow said, and I know that I need to continue to where my mask and play my role, even here.

"What do you mean,"I question.

She gives me a look, as though confused,"You just don't seem like...like the Finnick they show on television. I don't know. Maybe I was wrong."

My heart feels like it has been stabbed with a knife, but I can't tell her the truth. I have to lie, to make her believe that I am the man on the television. Even though I am not. I am not.

"You must have been wrong," I pull my arm away from her, and then turn and walk into the bedroom without a second glance. All my humor is gone, replaced by a feeling of sickness and pain that I have felt all to many times before. I want to go back, to apologize, to say it is all an act, but I can't because there are so many reasons I have to lie.

And sometimes you have to choose between the lesser of two evils. Sometimes there really is no good choice.

Mags lies on a bed, and a woman the spitting image of Kandy stands to the side, allowing us the space around the bed. I nod to her, showing her my thanks, and then kneel beside Mags.

She is white, her face void of color. I touch her, and her skin feels normal, but still somehow strange. I don't know anything about strokes, nor their symptoms, so I don't know whether this is good or bad.

"How is she?" Annie asks.

"The doctors told me that she had taken a turn for the worst, but when she got here she seemed in very stable condition. I think the worst is over. The rest will be waiting for her to wake up, and seeing what short or long terms problems she will face. It is different for every victim, so it is hard to guess.

I nod. I try to think of Mags, paralyzed, trying to run through the arena, or with half her face dead tissue, or maybe with no legs because they had to do surgery from some type of infection. But these are just memories of mine from previous Games, and I have no idea if a stroke could even cause these things. I am just worried about what may happen, and how it will affect her odds of surviving the quarter quell, which, if I am honest with myself, were very small to begin with. The only possible advantage she has in her old age is that she would never go hungry in an arena that had any water source. She can make a fishhook from just about anything.

Unless her hands get paralyzed or something, I remind myself. Then I will have to do it all for her.

No. Because we will have Katniss and Peeta as allies. Johanna, Beetee, Wiress, and perhaps more too, if everything goes well. It all depends on whose names are drawn from those bowls.

I take Mags hand in my own, and sit there in silence for another moment, before Annie places her hand on my shoulder.

"We should go. It may be a while, days, maybe more before she wakes up. I don't want to intrude on the Steeves privacy," she tells me.

I nod, even though the last thing on my mind is a desire to leave Mags alone. She was there for me through everything and it seems wrong somehow to do anything less.

Kandy's mother, Mira, nods to us,"If there is any change in her condition, I will send Kandy or one of my boys to come and get you. I promise."

I nod to her,"Thank you. She is like a mother to me."

Mira smiles gently,"I know she is. Don't worry, she is safe here."

I stand up, then, after giving Mags hand one more gentle squeeze and whispering a soft,"I love you," in her ear. She probably can't hear it in her unconscious state, but it was worth a try, anyways.

Annie slips her hand in mine, and we head downstairs. Kandy stands at the bottom, and gives Annie a quick smile, then turns away. She won't even look at me.

I almost break down and tell her the truth, but instead force myself to take one step at a time towards the door. The greater good, I tell myself, I can't tell her for the sake of the greater good.

But I can't do it. Us victors are supposed to be the very embodiment of hope where there is none. And however important the greater good may be, I can't strip away what hope she may have. I feel in my pocket, and find that I am still carrying the sugar cube Annie gave me a few days ago. I want to keep it, but I know Annie will understand. I turn around, to where Kandy looks up for a moment, and then looks away.

"Hey," I question,"Want a sugar cube?"

She meets my eye again, then, and her stare is both hurt and quizzical.

"I'm sorry," I whisper the words, but in the silence of the room, they seem almost like a thunderclap.

She steps forward and plucks the white cube from my fingers.

"There's always hope," I tell her,"don't ever forget that."

She nods to me, and a small smile creeps up her face.

"Sempre espero," she whispers,"It means 'Always hope' in one of the old languages, before the war. My father taught me that. Before...before he died."

I nod, unable to speak, because of the thoughts running through my mind. I can't believe I almost stripped this girl of the small degree of hope that she had. But I didn't, I remind myself. I didn't. Maybe I even gave her a little bit more.

"Thank you," I tell her,"You reminded me of something very important, something I had almost forgotten."

"What's that?" she asks, as though confused that she could have ever taught me anything.

I smile gently at her,"You reminded me that one can not wear a mask and still be the most that they can be. And that stripping away someone's hope is the worst crime that can be committed."

"Because hope is the only thing stronger than fear," Annie comes up beside me.

"Sempre espero?" I ask Kandy, wanting to make sure I remember the words.

She nods, and then reaches forward and embraces me, and I don't stop her, because this is not a hug from a girl obsessed with me, or a girl who has been in love with me her entire life, as so many her age are. No, this is an embrace from a girl who has just been reminded that there is a reason for living. That there is a reason for laughter and joy, and that there is good in this world. That there is always hope.

"Sempre espero," she repeats.

* * *

A/N Once again, thanks for reading! Please review! :)


	22. Chapter 22

Six Months Later

I step out into the warm air, thankful that I don't live in one of the districts that gets snow and whose temperatures drop far below zero during these so called winter months. Here in district four, I think the coldest recorded temperature ever has been about ten degrees above zero.

We have never had need for mittens or scarves. Unlike Katniss and Peeta. They started their victory tour a little while back, and we got a glimpse of the frozen streets of district twelve, as the Capitol's two favourite victors had a very forced televised reunion before they began the tour. I haven't kept track of the days since then, and know only that they will be here tomorrow. Of course, I need to be at the banquet and speech that they will give.

It's difficult to watch them, knowing that I was right. That all those nights in the cave were just an act on Katniss's part. It makes me wary of her somehow. I guess it is just knowing that she can so easily fool so many people. It's even worse that she obviously fooled Peeta as well. I wonder how he reacted when he learned the truth, because judging by their reunion in the snowy world of district twelve, there was some serious distance between them. I know I should not feel above Katniss, and I don't really, not for the most part. I know she was only doing what she had to do to survive, but it still seems wrong somehow. But then I realize that I would have done the same things in her circumstance, if it meant surviving, and the anger leaves me. And then I feel even worse, because I wonder what I would have done when the gamemakers made the last announcement. Would I have thought to hold out the berries, or would I have thrown my trident and considered my actions and motives later? That thought always brings me quickly back to reality.

I stop in front of Mags door, which is only a few down from mine, in the victors village. She will need me to help her walk to the justice building, where we are debriefing for the event tomorrow. She survived the stroke, but was left with a speech impairment that will last her the rest of her life. She still has trouble walking, too, but we were told that she just needs to practice, and that it will go away with time. Her speech is the only long term issue, and though I suppose we were lucky, I still miss having long conversations with her, like we used to. I am still the only one who can really understand her, having known her so long, but our conversations aren't at all like they used to be. Her mind was not affected though, so sometimes we sit and have conversations over paper, writing notes back and forth. We have, if possible, grown even closer together through this.

Mags is waiting just inside, cane in hand, ready to head out. She hates the concept of being late, something I learned the hard way, because I used to be late all the time. It was something I learned with my father, when I was younger. If I showed up for things a bit late, we would never have time for one on one conversations, and I wouldn't have time to say something that could make him mad. It was a habit I slowly unlearned with Mags as my mentor.

We step out the front door, moving at a pace that is little more than a snail's, but it all that Mags can do at the moment. Sometimes I wish she would just let me carry her, or at least push her in a wheelchair. But there is also a part of me that admires her stubbornness. Her will to live, and to push herself to her breaking point, despite her age.

Still, it takes us 10 minutes to reach Annie's house, and it is only three doors down from her own.

Annie is waiting on the front porch, dressed in a dark blue top that shimmers when she walks, and a sea green skirt. She looks like a mermaid who has been just recently pulled from the sea.

She avoids my eyes, my glance, and instead takes Mags hand, and silently begins towards the town square, and the justice building. I swallow hard and avert my gaze. After everything that happened with Mags, she seemed to forget all about the rose and what it symbolized, or at least she never asked me about it, and I wasn't exactly in a hurry to tell. Only a week ago did something seem to click, and she recalled everything that happened, and asked me about it. Asked for the truth.

And what could I do but tell her. Not everything, of course. I couldn't bring myself to tell her everything. She doesn't know about the arena, or the plans for the quell next year. Just about the President, and his threat if I don't play along. And everything that the rose signifies.

She didn't go into another state of so called madness, as I thought might happen. Her mind has grown strong in these last few years, and she isn't that unstable, though I am still unsure of what her reaction would be to the knowledge of the quarter quell. But what did happen was almost more painful, if possible.

She told me that we were finished. Done.

Forever.

She said that she couldn't trust me to tell her the truth, and that I had lied to her and kept things from her too often. But she said that even that was not the root of our break up. She said that she couldn't bear to be the cause of my death, or her own, by being involved with me. Annie explained that if we broke it off, and didn't spend time together anymore, then the President would not be able to threaten me with her anymore. That she, and her family, would be safe.

She hasn't spoken to me since. Hasn't looked at me. Wouldn't hear my pleas that it wouldn't work that way. That the president would use her against me just as much, because she was a part of me, and I could never get over her, never move on.

She broke my heart. And worse, it was my fault. My indiscretion that caused it.

No one knows yet, not even her family, I don't think. Why this is, I am not certain, but perhaps it means that there is still a chance for us. I desperately hope so.

I can't live without her. I knew that before, but it has been ground into my mind now. Annie is my life. There is nothing left for me without her. Nothing.

Nothing except death, and the looming threat of the coming Quell. I wonder when the President will make the announcement that signifies his plan. Soon, probably. And then, if I haven't told Annie, if I haven't made it up to her...she may never forgive me. And I will lose her forever.

And then I think that perhaps that may be best. That if she gets over me, and I die, then she will be able to move on, and I will not need to die feeling that I have left her alone. Instead I will feel loneliness and sadness like never before.

I risk a glance at Annie, but she is concentrating on the road in front of her, no attention on me at all. I feel a stab of pain. But I realize that it is what I must do. Sacrificial love is the greatest of them all, after all. Even if it means destroying what we have.

That is something I never thought could be done, with Annie and I. Never.

But I guess I was wrong. And perhaps it is for the best, because it will hurt less.

Well, it will hurt her less, at least.

And then we are on the steps of the justice building, and I realize I must have been lost in thought for longer than I realized, or else Mags suddenly was gifted with super speed. At least it meant no one started up a conversation. But then, I didn't expect anyone too. Mags wouldn't, because only I can really understand her. Annie wouldn't, because she isn't talking to me, and Mags wouldn't make for good conversation. I wouldn't, because neither Annie nor Mags would really be good to talk to right now. If Mags and I were alone, perhaps. But we aren't, and so I too have kept silent.

We step inside the Justice Building, and are quickly ushered into the Mayor's office. There are three other living victors from District Four, and all are already here. Rhine is 21 and won the games three years ago, when she was 18. Tobias is 54 and won the 37th hunger games when he was 16. And James is 27 and won a year after me, the 66th hunger games, when he was 18. We have had a few other victors, but they are all dead now. Still, this technically means that there are three possible male victors and three female victors to chose from. I am still almost certain that mine and Annie's names will be drawn. And looking at the faces of the others, I am certain none of them will volunteer.

Rhine is still beautiful, though she has a long scar vertically down her face and over her left eye, from her own games. Her hair is jet black, which is a rarity in district four, and her skin is pale, giving her an eerie feel. She is quiet, and keeps to herself mostly. I have only spoken to her on the rare occasion, but she seems nice enough.

Tobias is so much older than me that we have never really spoken. He tends to spend time with Beetee and Wiress during the Games, because they are around his age. He, like Haymitch, reverted to alcohol after his games, but seems to be more controlled. He drinks, but I have never actually seen him drunk.

James and I were friends before his games, though he was a few years older than me. He was one of those kids who never appreciated bullying in the school, and always stood up for me when he saw it happening. After his games, he seemed relatively unchanged, besides the bags under his eyes, signifying the nightmares that haunt the sleep of every victor. His hair is a chestnut brown, and falls to just above his bright blue eyes. He nods to me when we enter.

"Finnick."

I give him a small smile, but it is forced,"James."

He has never liked me since our games. Perhaps it is because I was so well liked, due to my natural good looks, and my win was based in many ways on that, whereas he had to work for it. Perhaps it is just the general hatred that most people, outside of the Capitol, seem to have for me. No one knows the truth, so they just revert to hatred. I am used to it by now, though I have to admit, I miss his friendship.

Annie grins and takes a seat beside him, leaving me to sit by Mags across the table.

"Hey, James. How have you been?" her face is bright.

I feel a surge of jealousy, and I know that is what she wants. She is playing me, wondering how I will react. Somehow, I never saw this from Annie. Ever. Even now, I can't believe it. There must be something more to this than I realize, because you don't tell someone a simple truth and change everything that they are in a week. And the girl before me now is not Annie, however similar the two of them may look.

James seems just as confused as me, and doesn't reply, but gives me a quizzical look. It isn't filled with the usual loathing, which surprises me. The fact that he doesn't answer is even more surprising.

Mags also gives me a look, but I can't read it. It isn't really anger, or confusion, but come in between state that I can't place. I haven't seen it on Mags before.

Annie shuts up now, and instead stares at the paper in front of her. We sit across from each other, but she still will not meet my eyes. I remind myself that this is what I want. That if I can, in any way, help her to get over me, I will leave her in a far better position when I die during the Quarter Quell.

Another voice creeps into my mind, stilling my surety. 'But what if you don't die' it asks,'what then? You will have to live the rest of your life watching Annie living hers with someone else.'

I shake the thoughts from my head, not allowing myself to dwell on them now, even though I know that I will return to them later.

The mayor enters the room then, and sits down at the head of the table. His greying hair is combed back over his head, covering the bald spot that I know to exist there. Gelf Theison is his name, though of course, no one calls him that. Mayor Theison, if you call him anything. He has a tendency to forget to leave room for introductions. He eyes us, allowing his grey eyes, which match his hair, to rest for a moment on each of us, before beginning.

"Tomorrow, as you all know, the victory tour moves to District Four. And we are planning a feast of special magnificence..."

I drown out his voice. Special Magnificence. The theme for the District Four party this year. I think that the name probably came from the President himself, after all the 'special' things Katniss did during the Games. I wonder if it is the theme for the entire tour, or just our district. Themes aren't a big or broadcast thing, and most people don't even know they exist. Only the victors, and the very intelligent people of the districts can figure them out.

I created a theme for my life once. And I called it Sorrow. Nothing else, just plain sorrow. And then Annie entered my life, and though nothing has ever been perfect, it became so much better with her in it.

And now she is gone again. And I think that perhaps I need to reverse back in time and pick up my old theme again. I look at Annie, and realize that for the first time, she is staring at me as well. But the minute our eyes meet, she looks away, and I am drowning again, because I am lost in an ocean of lies and deception and I don't know how to escape. But I can't lose her. I can't live without her. I can't. I need her.

I am drowning in sorrow.

And then I wake up.

I didn't even realize that I was dreaming.

It's not true, I remind myself. Not true. Annie forgot. She hasn't asked. She won't react like that. She won't. She loves me, she couldn't break it off with me.

I lower my face into my hands, still wrapped in my blankets. What if the dream version of me was right? What if the best thing I can do for Annie is tell her the truth, is get her to break it off with me, so that I don't leave her alone? But it can't be. There has to be another way.

I look at the clock. It is 7:00. Their was a meeting with the mayor, before the victory tour, but that was yesterday. I guess my mind was just replaying what actually happened, and adding in a bit of its own, because everything except Annie's treatment of me was like watching a video camera of yesterday.

Yes, everything but Annie's treatment of me. Because that could never happen. She didn't stare at me coldly, or not look at me. She was waiting on the porch, but she tripped on the way down the sidewalk, and fell into my arms and I kissed her. And she kissed me back. She was wearing the blue and green outfit, but I told her she looked beautiful and she thanked me, and her smile was real and lit up her entire face. She sat by me at the mayors office, and held my hand through the entire meeting. That is real. The dream was not.

I am not shaking. Not like I usually am when I have a nightmare. I guess it is because this one was so unreal. That could never happen between Annie and I. We may disagree and have our moments, but we both need each, like salt and pepper need each other. Like sugar and spice. To separate us would end badly, for both of us. How could I ever have considered getting her to break it off we me? I need her, and I know she needs me too. To take away love is almost the same thing as taking away hope.

I get up, and pull on a white top that is open in the front. I got it from the Capitol a while back, but never wear anything from there unless I have too. Today, I just need to see Annie, and it was the first thing on the top of my drawer. After I pull on the rest of my clothes, I hurry out the front door and to Annie's house, where a light is already on in the window. She has been having nightmares lately, and waking up early, so I am not surprised.

And then I get to the window, and I see it. Something I never thought I would see, and yet something that has haunted my dreams for years. Through the small crack of open glass I see her, dressed in the same outfit as yesterday, so it must have been a hurried change. And across from her is a man who does not belong there, as much as he does not belong anywhere in this district, or in this world for that matter. And his being here can mean only one thing. Death. Annie's or someone else's I do not know, but I can guess. I try to decide what is best, to enter the house, or to go back to my own, and think this over. I decide on the latter, at least for the moment.

President Snow is not a foe to be easily reckoned with.

I am forcing myself not to drown yet again when I reach my own door. And then I see the note attached to the outer handle, as though it was meant to be read on my way back from something. I reach for it, and the strong paper that is more cream than white, and the elegant handwriting that I have seen so often, can only be from one person. The same person sitting in Annie's living room right now. The President.

With trembling hands I open the paper, and the message, though short, is straight to the point and obvious.

"My dearest Finnick. You have been on my mind so much lately. Ever since that incident with, what was her name? Oh, I can't remember, but what does it matter. I am sure you know of whom I speak. It would seem that you have thrown aside my advice all together, hmm? But, I mean, I can't force you to obey, now can I? I can only control what I do about your obedience. Or, in this case, disobedience. Well, I was forced to take action. I'm sure you understand. You had better be more careful in the future, hadn't you, Finnick? Unless you want someone else dead. It is such a painful thing to watch a loved one die, isn't it? You know that well enough, don't you. Well, anyways, I hope you enjoy the feast tonight. It's not for you, you know. It's for Katniss. You don't want to be like her, I promise. Soon enough, you'll see what I do when people are like her. And you won't like it, Finnick. I won't have to worry about you again, afterwards."

There is no signature. He knows I don't need one. What he doesn't know is that I already know his plan, and this note has just confirmed my suspicion. That I will be the one in the games, and that he does not plan for me to come out alive. Neither will Katniss exit alive, if he has his way. But this time, we will have our way. Not him. If it is in my power, he will never have his way again.

But the rest of the words strike me. That incident with, what's her...and then it clicks. Kandy. It has to be. But how could he know? It was in her home, and that was almost six months ago. Why would he choose now to act. I feel sick, but somehow I also feel relief, because if he has already killed someone, then it means he is not planning on killing Annie. Not now.

And then I wonder what it is he is doing to her.

And then something else clicks, and the dream, and the visit all make sense in my mind. He will threaten her. He will tell her that she needs to end it with me, or he will kill someone. Me, her...with Annie, it could be anyone, even someone she does not know, and she would agree. And she would agree. He knows. He knows that the only way to truly and fully break me is through Annie. And not even through her death, but through more. Through the loss of her heart.

I remember my earlier thought. About salt and pepper. That anyone who takes one from the other is, in a sense, destroying the purpose of both. And that Annie and I are like that. We are salt and pepper, each playing an essential role in the other's life. Each essential for the survival of the other. And, like salt and pepper, to tear us away from each other is to destroy us both. And that is what he means to do. Destroy us.

I collapse to the ground as this knowledge sinks in, as I realize the truth of it. And then I see the body, another thing that I missed in my hurry to Annie's house.

Kandy lies on the ground outside my door, facedown, in a pool of blood. I don't see the wound, but she is white, and she is not breathing, and I know that she is gone.

I don't bother going to see Annie. It will only make things worse, perhaps even push the President over the edge, get him to kill her after all. And I couldn't take that.

But I can't take this either.

And then I am sobbing, crouched on my front steps in a fetal position, pouring out my heart to anyone who is within hearing distance. But no one is. No one except the Mockingjays on the trees surrounding my house. And they are listening. I can tell through my watery eyes and broken heart. Because tears are a strange song, and one almost unheard by them in a world where emotions are cooped up inside, and rarely let loose. They are a music all their own, and the mockingjays don't seem to know what to do with them at first, and all goes silent. And then, one by one, they begin, an eerie tune releasing itself.

How fitting that they take up my song.


	23. Chapter 23

I am still sitting on my front steps hours later, but now with my back against the door, and my knees to my chest. My face still feels puffy, and is probably still streaked with tears, but my heart has slowly calmed down, and the tears themselves have stopped. My mind is the only thing racing now.

It is in this state that Annie finds me, and though I have lost track of the time, I am judging it to be about ten o'clock, by the sun. I need to be in town by four, so I have lots of time, but all I want to do is get inside and shut the door so that Annie does not need to see me like this. At least the mockingjay's have left.

She takes one look at me and gestures inside. I shake my head, a weak no. I can't let that happen. Not now. In this state I will probably break down again, perhaps break Annie's resolve or evoke the President's fury, I don't know. Either way, I can't be alone with her. Not now.

She glares at me,"Finnick, I need to talk to you. If you...if you saw anything...it's okay. I promise."

She knows. She knows I saw her. And she still thinks it will be okay. The President must have told her to come here. So it's okay, I tell myself. It'll be fine. You can handle this. You can.

But I can't. I am strong, on the scale of most people, but not strong enough for what I know is about to happen. Not strong enough at all.

But Annie shoves me aside, and caught off balance, I tip just enough to give her the opportunity to shove my door open slightly and slip inside. I decide not to prolong the inevitable and follow her in.

Once I have shut the door she falls into my arms. I didn't expect this. How could I? She's sobbing, tears streaming down her face, and though I know I should be strong, I can't be, and then I am crying too, and we sit on the couch, her on my lap. Our tears our mingling and I taste salt and I don't know what else to do but rub her back and whisper soothing words whenever my voice allows me. I know I shouldn't, but my minding is not working clearly right now, and I am so broken that I can not think of anything else to do.

Finally her sobs break off, and I force my eyes to dry.

"What did he say, Annie?" I had planned to hide my knowledge, but there is no point in that now.

"He told me that you have not been obeying him in the Capitol. That you haven't listened to everything that he told you to do. That the people are restless, that they are beginning to wonder if Finnick Odair has any interest in them at all."

I want to laugh. The people may be restless, but it has nothing to do with me.

"It's not funny, Finnick. He told me...he told me I had to break it off with you, or else..."

"Or else what, Annie."

"Or else he would kill everyone I loved, and torture you, and...oh, Finnick."

She breaks into tears again.

"Annie, be strong, please. Please." It may be cruel, but I can't take her tears right now, when I am in an unsteady state myself. "Did he say anything else?"

She stifles her sobs and nods," He said, he said that if you could prove to him tonight that you were everything the Capitol wanted you to be, then he would let us stay together, in secret. But if you couldn't, then we would be done."

I nod. I didn't expect this. This ultimatum. He knows that if I lose Annie, there won't be as much of a reason for me to play his game in the Capitol. So he is giving me another option. An option I have no choice but to accept.

Annie stares at me, tear stains running down her cheeks, like they must be on my own.

"Well, I guess I am going to be wearing my Capitol clothing tonight." I say, in a lame attempt at humor.

"It's not funny. It really isn't, Finnick. How can anyone live like this? With death threats over their head and promises to kill everyone they love. I thought, at least, we had the ability to choose who to love, but even that was a lie."

I nod slowly. "I know. I've always known that. There are no victors to the Games, Annie. No winners. There are only survivors." It isn't exactly a statement full of hope, but if there is anything we lack right now, it is hope.

She nods, but her eyes are getting cloudy again.

"Please don't cry, Annie. Please. I-I just don't think I can take it right now. I'm sorry, but if I have to be in a good state tonight, and ready to play President Snow's little game, I just can't watch you cry. Seeing it breaks my heart, Annie. Because I'm supposed to be able to protect you, to comfort you, to dry your tears. But I am just as helpless as you are."

I clench me eyes shut and ball my hands into fists to stop my own tears. I haven't felt this way, this vulnerable, in a long time. For these last months, I have felt hope. Real hope, like we had a chance. But now even that is being stifled. And try as I might, the flames are not growing, but shrinking. And I can't reignite them.

Annie is staring at me. She has never seen me like this, I have made sure of it. I have always acted strong in front of her, as though I knew what I was doing, who I was. But this is who I am. It is who I have become, and now she knows. And this breaks me even more. Because if I had anything before, it was the mask. And now the mask has been ripped off and everyone can see me for who I am. And once a mask has been removed, it is oh so difficult to put it back on.

And then Annie wraps her arms around me, and despite my resolve and my earlier chastisement of her tears, I feel my eyes brimming and overflowing once again. To feel her love, despite everything that I am, everything that I have become, it is like nothing that I have ever known, or thought I ever would know. It is beautiful.

And she doesn't cry, she just holds me, and now it is her who whispers the words of comfort, the words of hope. She has always been my hope, hasn't she. I had none without her, but I have never fully lost it since I found her. I wouldn't be anything-anything-without her. She is my everything.

But somehow that makes it even harder. To know what I must do tonight and forever if our plan in the arena fails.

Forever.

That is a very long time.

I relax, and Annie lets go of me as I dry my tears on my sleeve. She hands me a tissue, but I refuse it, and stand up. She stands on her tiptoes and kisses me one last time.

Perhaps the last time, ever.

No.

No.

No. It can't be.

And then she is gone, and I am alone again.

I go upstairs, and ruffle through my drawers, trying to find something to wear. But I can't, and I don't want to wear any of the items that I think might work. So I go to the bathroom and wash my face, relieving the redness and the tear stains that remain. Then I comb back my hair, and ruffle it up, the look my stylist gave me during my own games. I head back to my room, and don't allow myself to think, I just get dressed.

A white top, with a green sweater, because it is slightly chillier than usual. Blue slacks, of some material that I was given in the Capitol. Matching blue and green shoes. A necklace with a shark's tooth on it. Another gift from a Capitol admirer. The tooth isn't real.

I look in the full length mirror that I keep in the hallway. I hate it. I hate everything about this look, this person who is staring back at me. Because no matter what others think and say and believe, this is not me, and I hate it. I will always hate it. Always.

I look out my window, and can see Annie's house, with the light on in the window. And then I look at the clock. 12:00. Noon. Four hours.

I consider going over to her house, but I think that perhaps I couldn't take it. And for some reason I don't want her to see me like this. She will, of course, but I would prefer to put it off for as long as possible.

I sit on my bed, and somehow, in the stress of the moment, I fall asleep.

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When I wake up, the clock is reading 7:00.

7:00.

I leap out of bed and look at the sky, which is still bright and cheery, and then I turn to Annie's house, and the light is still on, and then I see Mags in the doorway to my room and I understand.

"Mags!" I yell at her, but she is laughing, and I can't help laugh myself. She changed my clock so I would freak out when I woke up. I glare at her, and she smiles back at me. And then I roll my eyes and walk out into the hallway, where the clock reads 3:45.

Just enough time to get to town.

Mags is wearing a purple dress, with a black pearl necklace, that I haven't seen before. Her hair is pulled back with a black hair tie. Even in her old age, she is beautiful. I hug her, and together we hurry out the door.

Well, with Mags, it isn't really hurrying, but still.

I start to Annie's house, to pick her up, when Mags taps my arm with her cane. I remember what I must do tonight, and I wonder how Mags knows, but either way, I pass Annie's house unnoticed. And then I see her, up ahead near the entrance to the Victor's village. Walking with James.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, release it, and keep walking. I must play my part, and she must play hers. That is how this all works.

Mags reaches out and grabs my hand, squeezing it hard.

I smile down at her, and she repeats the gesture. Trust Mags to make anyone feel better, no matter what.

When we get to the square, it is already packed with people for the speech that Katniss and Peeta will give. As victors, the district four tradition is for us to sit on the stage, and I can see the chairs that have already been laid out for us. Annie and James are already there, and Mags takes the seat beside Annie, leaving me one away. She gives me a look as I come on stage, as though reminding me that this is all for the cameras, and then her attention is back on James, who seems all to pleased about the extra attention.

I laugh softly. He can have his night. But in the end, I know who Annie's heart belongs to. And it isn't to him.

And then, the doors to the justice building open, and the mayor steps out, followed closely by Katniss and Peeta. They are holding hands, and share a very forced kiss as soon as they set foot on the stage. Her hair falls into his face, and he pushes it back, leaving room for another kiss.

I grimace. Whatever act they are trying to put on, it isn't working.

The crowd is silent.

The mayor begins the speech, but I drown him out, focused only on the 'star crossed lovers'. Katniss is wearing a pair of black pants and a green and blue shimmering top, that reminds me of the sea on a clear day. Her hair is down, but a head band of the same colors as her top pushes back her bangs. Plain, but pretty. I wonder what her stylist has planned for the banquet tonight.

Peeta matches her perfectly, his suit black, with his tie, shoes, and belt the same color as Katniss's top. The perfect pair. But not really. I feel bad for him, once again, and feel that annoyance at Katniss for playing with him. I wonder if he knows, now. And then I remember the footage of their supposed reunion in twelve. It was cold and forced from both ends. He must know. But still, he is playing it up. Protecting her, even though he knows the truth. I was once told that no decent person ever wins the games. So Peeta was lucky. And Katniss was, though perhaps far better than most, a surviver. It wasn't luck that gained her the crown. But, of course, luck played no part in my crown, either. Yes, I had the looks that gained me the sponsors, but I had skill too. The trident was the final straw, but I would have won either way. I was willing to do anything. I think about the upcoming games. This year, I must be willing to give up even more, and not even for myself. To keep Katniss alive. The girl who has, perhaps unknowingly, become the face of the rebellion. I wonder how much, if anything, the two of them have been told.

If they have been told anything, it sure hasn't affected their acting abilities. They're lucky that the Capitol believes them, but the districts sure don't.

Katniss is shaking. I notice this the moment my eyes glance her way again, after surveying Peeta. She looks like she is about to break into tears. And then I see them, about halfway into the crowd, a whole family stands and puts three fingers to their lips, holding them out to Katniss. A Peacekeeper makes his way through the crowd, joined quickly by two others, and they drag the family away. I didn't know them. But I respect them. Still, this has clearly unnerved Katniss. I wonder what pressure she is working under? A personal threat from Snow, most likely. I wonder if Peeta knows as well. He doesn't seem to be acting in any way unnatural.

Peeta stands up to the microphone, as the mayor gestures the pair forward, and gives a quick speech about their thankfulness for the districts kindness and so on and so forth. The same speech that is read every year. No personal comments. Yes, he must know. I watched the footage from eleven, and cringed when he offered money to both Rue's and Thresh's families. Then Katniss spoke and the place was thrust into chaos. Someone must have spoken to them, made sure that it didn't happen again.

The speech is over quickly, and the pair are quickly shuffled inside. It is now 4:30, and the banquet is not until 6 this evening. I decide to see if I can find Haymitch. I need to speak with him, if possible.

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It's not as easy to find the mentor of the star crossed lovers from district twelve as I had thought. When I do get to him, about a half hour later, he is in the mayor's office and I need to wait another ten minutes before he is done. When he leaves, I follow him down a series of hallways, until he finally stops just outside the door to their temporary apartment. I wonder if he has seen me. Not that I am hiding from him, but rather from the cameras that are surely hidden all around the building. Outside though, we should be safe. At least, more safe.

But he hasn't seen me, and just stands still, as though taking a breather. I see my moment and take it, sneaking up until I am right behind him. I don't him all too well, but one does not simply pass up a moment like this.

When I am directly behind him, I hold out my hand,"Haymitch. Want a sugar cube?"

He spins around, his fist catching me in the side and knocking me over and against the wall. I feel the air go out of my lungs for a moment, and then suck in deeply. Haymitch looks confused for a moment and then he glares at me, and seems to be contemplating whether he should hit me again or not, even if the first was perhaps a well-deserved reaction.

Reminder: never ever attempt to frighten someone you don't know well.

Finally Haymitch finds his voice:"Idiot," he says.

I roll my eyes, still trying to catch my breath, but he offers me his hand and I take it, easing myself up.

"Sorry, first reaction. Not that you didn't deserve it," he reminds me.

I nod, "you got to be able to take it if you dish it out, I guess."

Haymitch shakes his head in agreement, but his eyes are serious,"I somehow doubt that you followed me just to attempt to scare me, though. Why don't we step outside?"

"No, I didn't. And yes, we should."

I follow Haymitch back down the corridor and to an exit that leads into an abandoned parking lot, and then down a side alley. There are almost certainly no cameras here.

"What is it you wanted?" Haymitch asks.

"What have you told them?" I question.

"Nothing. It's too dangerous."

I consider this for a moment,"But isn't it even more dangerous for them to act without knowing what they are getting themselves in to."

"No. Katniss was visited by President Snow, who threatened the lives of her family, Gale, his family...maybe more. She knows the stakes are high." Haymitch responds.

"Annie was visited by Snow, too." I tell him.

Haymitch eyes widen. "Why?"

"It's my fault. I haven't been...been doing what he wants. Been playing up the whole sex symbol thing enough. He's angry. He said he would kill Annie's family, and torture her or me, or who knows what else, if I fail to be his puppet."

Haymitch expression is angry now,"Look Finnick, you're not the only one who has to put on an act for the Capitol. Assuming it's an act, of course. But it's all we can do. And it's selfish to resist, knowing what's at stake."

His words cut like a knife. Selfish. "You know nothing about selfishness, Haymitch. What have you ever done for anyone? Sat in your little house and drank your life away?"

I don't see his hand before it hits me, but the sound echo's down the alley. Not that I haven't been backhanded before, but it stings nonetheless. I glare at him through the tears that gather as an automatic response, and wipe them quickly away.

"Shut up, boy. You don't know what your saying. I am trying to help. To help this country, to help Panem. And what are you doing? Making more problems. I have never liked you, Finnick. What I did know was that I could trust you. Or at least, I thought I could. But maybe I can't. Because, someone who puts his own image as more important than the lives of others can not be trusted to put the life of the rebellion above his own."

I don't look at Haymitch. I don't answer. I just turn and go, and he doesn't try to stop me. I didn't get my questions answered, or any help, but I can't stay and listen to this. I made a pledge, and I plan on keeping it. I don't owe him anything else.

"Oh, and Finnick?" His words ring down the alleyway, and I stop, just for a moment.

"What?"

"Don't talk to Katniss tonight. The Games are already beginning, and you'll just make things worse.

I nod, though I don't fully understand him, and without turning or looking at him, walk out of the alley, through the parking lot, and back inside. Back down the corridors, and to the place where the banquet will be held. It is 5:45. I can wait here.

I see Annie, already seated, almost all the way across the room, next to James. Mags is next to her, as she was outside, and is staring at me disapprovingly. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Haymitch enter the room, and disappear through another door. The room is full of people, except for the spot next to Mags, which is meant for me, and the mayor's spot. He is up at the podium.

And then the lights go out, and as the mayor begins to read the names of Katniss and Peeta's team, I realize what Haymitch meant.

The Games may start for real in a little over five months, but they begin now.

The Game for Annie's heart, though she has already given it to me. The Game to fool the people of the Capitol, though they may already be fooled. The Game to please the President. And he is not please. That is the real Game, though, isn't it. To please Snow. But then, I think, perhaps we are involved in another game. Or another side of the game. It's like chess. There is the Capitol, and there are the rebels. Snow is like the king of one side, once he is defeated, the game is won for the rebels. And Katniss is our king. If she is killed, the rebels may as well give up. She lit the fire, and we need her. She is our mockingjay. And I am just a pawn. Useful only for protecting the king, whatever side I may choose. But this game is more complicated than a simple children's chess tournament. Because to please Snow and play my part may also be the best thing for the rebels right now. I look at Annie, wearing an outfit that completely compliments mine, however distant we may be. I will do whatever it takes to protect her and to protect this country. If it means my life.

And then I hear the names of Katniss and Peeta called, and as they descend the stairs, hand in hand, I watch a mockingjay fly across the window panel in the roof above their heads, almost unnoticed.

Katniss.

A mockingjay.

The symbol of rebellion.

The symbol of hope.

Hope.

Even if it is at the cost of my life, and the lives of others, we are fighting for hope. Because there is always hope. It is the only thing stronger than fear. And because of Katniss, we have it in overflowing amounts, no matter how dim things may seem at times. Perhaps I will die. But it won't matter, really. Because, in the big scheme of things, I am only a pawn, and if I die, the Game can still be won.

So let the Games begin.

* * *

A/N: Hey all! Thanks for sticking with me through everything, all the way to the end! If you're reading this, I appreciate you! :) I spent a lot of time on this story, but then I just wasn't sure about it, and deleted it like twice (as you probably know if you've made it this far). Honestly, the only reason this is still here is because I was messaged and asked more than once about where it had gone :P So, thank you all so much for the encouragement and kind words; they meant a lot!

Also, I do have a few chapters of a sequel written, but I don't have plans to finish it. (At least not anytime soon). I don't really want to post something that is unfinished, but if you ask for it then I will. If anyone is interested in continuing the story, either from this point, or from where I leave off in the sequel, shoot me a message! And once again, thanks for sticking with the story! You are all amazing! :)


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